Fluffy was still perched high in the sycamore tree on shaky, spindly branches. Bob was at the top step of the ladder, but he couldn't reach Fluffy's branch. He had a strange machine in his hand. Suddenly there was an awful screeching noise. Bob was holding onto the ladder with one hand and jabbing at a lower branch with the machine. With a crash the little branch below broke off and was gone - Fluffy was still on her branch but she was flying. The ground was a long way below, and getting closer. She let go and jumped, landing upside down and then rolling over in the long grass.
 'Fluffy. come here.' Annette called, but Fluffy ran. Through the grass, across the creek, under the fence, through the orchard, under another fence and into the woodshed. She stayed there for a long time. Finally when she was sure there were no more nasty dogs, except her old friend Jack, she crept out of her hiding place. She was very hungry. Annette gave her a huge bowl of food and then Fluffy climbed up into her favourite place - a fruit bowl - curled up and had a long sleep.