The Capt decided to get an early start this morning, a very lucky thing. It's been raining buckets and he knew the dinghy would be full of water, so he headed for the marina to pump it out. Moments later he was back.
"Get a towel and come with me," he commanded.
A block away, Zorra, my favorite feral feline, had her head stuck in a tin can and was struggling mightily to get loose. Worse, she was unknowingly lying in the middle of the road! The Capt, in his efforts to rescue her, had already gotten some bloody scratches. Twice we tossed our big beach towel over her, and twice she sprang loose, growling ferociously the whole time. Finally he bound her up, lifted her, and I gently twisted the can a couple of times.
Success! Having regained her head, Zorra leaped out of the towel with a hissing blur, and went flying through the patio of the Samoyed Death Squad. Luckily the Samoyeds were out on a walk or they would have been after her. I've seen them demolish at least one cat, while their owner stood idly by, holding the other end of their leash.
If the Capt hadn't been in a hurry to bail out the dink, if the Samoyeds hadn't been out for a walk, if a car had come along before we got there with the towel, Zorra might have been a goner.
Not that she'll ever wag her tail and say thanks, but we have dogs for that.