Fluffy clung to the spindly top branches, swaying with the wind. 
'There she is.' Annette, Bob and the other man were standing at the foot of the tree looking up and pointing.
'How do we get her down?'
'She'll come by herself - when she's hungry.'
Fluffy stayed where she was. Annette kept on calling, but Fluffy would not move from her perch. She was scared of the dogs. The wind howled and shrieked in the treetops.  
Darkness came with more wind and rain. It was a long night. Fluffy was wet and cold. Hours passed, but still she clung to the sycamore branch. Frightened that she would fall or be blown away, she managed to wriggle into the fork of two branches, but even so she was being buffeted by the gale. She was hungry, her fur was wet and bedraggled but she wasn't coming down.
Morning at last. Annette came with bowls of food. Fluffy was hungry, she wanted her breakfast, but now she didn't know how to get down. 
Something strange was going on. Bob was at the bottom of the tree with another man. Was it the man with the dogs? Maybe. Bob and the man were carrying the ladder and something else. Bob was climbing up the ladder, but still couldn't reach Fluffy. She was too high in the tree and the branches were too spindly to hold the weight of a man. Suddenly there was an awful screeching noise.    To be continued.