mine, who mixes I love you with I love me, independently stalks out the door, shoots to the highest branch of the maple tree, and stays. Too long. As he has done before. (He can get down, I know he can get down.) - He stays. And cries for help: ``I'm stuck!'' And ``Hey, I'm yours! Come and get me!'' I ignore his pitch for pity. (``Oh, meow!'' he pleads.) But later, sure enough all independence, he walks in the door.