Hugging my tree (gently) and the runaway kitty

I was limping around, just a little, after a 21-mile run, on a warm, sunny Saturday morning. I was achy, but feeling pretty good otherwise about having my second 20-miler done.

My husband starts calling me, a little more frantic than usual. "Tammy, come here! I want to show you something."

I walked over to our giant tree in the front yard and see this:

What in the heck? I posted to Facebook, my first go-to source of arborist -type advice. The observations were helpful but startling. Wood wasps. Decaying tree. Wasps laying eggs in my tree. Wasps attacking other wasps' larva in our tree.

Holy crap.

This is our tree. It has been a little rough since a really dry, hot summer a few years ago. This year, its leaves were definitely not as full and healthy as before.

An email to Morton Arboretum was returned the following Monday, leading with "Your tree is in serious trouble..." I cried. One of the reasons we live in our neighborhood is because of the amazing trees. Advice: Hire an arborist.

The arborist came out Friday. Nice guy. He told us our tree was a sugar elm (after living here for 13 years, we did not know this). It was in decline. But not dead.

Yay!

There are some things we can do to extend its life. Pruning. Fertilizer. We're on it. If hugging it would help, I would be tempted.

I didn't realize I was so attached to our tree as I was. I was so relieved I couldn't shut up about my tree at work. (My colleagues are very patient sometimes.)

It's easy to know the things we get attached to, except the things we don't realize we're attached to.

Another example of not realizing I was attached to something -- this guy. This is Dewey, a cat belonging to neighbors a few doors down. He's well-known on our street for his extremely un-cat-like friendliness. (And I hope my neighbors don't think it's too weird I'm writing about him...)

Last week our neighbor posted on our street's Facebook page that he was missing. Neighbors responded with kindness and promises they would definitely look for him.

Most of the folks on our street are pretty nice.

By dusk, Dewey had still not re-emerged.

Kind of on a whim, I texted the photo to one of my running friends, who lives a few blocks away, and asked her to keep a lookout. She's an animal lover, too.

Just as I had gotten the kids sort of into bed and put some dinner in the oven, I saw Krista had called.

Since we only text and run -- and never talk on the phone -- I was worried something was wrong.

She told me her dog Tucker was going nuts because he could see a kitty on her building's front step.

Like I was on a mission, I told my husband I had to go. It might be Dewey!

I got there and it sure was! Of all the stoops he decided to visit, how random was it that he chose my friend's house?

We called the now very-happy owners and Dewey was retrieved.

I now find myself keeping an eye out for Dewey when I'm walking the neighborhood. I also find myself now looking more closely at the tree I've been taking for granted all these years.

And I wonder what else I'm not seeing that I should.