Meowing up the wrong tree

Usually Jelly goes out first thing in the morning then returns to the fireside for a leisurely sleep in before going out again to roam around the garden for the rest of the day. This morning she didn't turn up after her initial outing, having been waylaid by the complexities of the golden elm tree.

Jelly's a smart cat and rather than going higher or calling for help like a lot of other cats I won't mention, she looked for a way down....

and looked...

and looked.

At this point she just sat and looked hopefully at me as if to say "Well, how about a lift?" Dignity forbade her crying and carrying on like Jamie (to use a random example that comes to mind with no provocation) would have. I lifted her down and she lightly hopped to the ground from my arms as if nothing at all was the matter. Perhaps the puncture wounds from her desperate grip on my skin gave away what she really thought.