I saw a status update on Facebook on Wednesday by a friend of mine. (An actual friend, not just a cyber pal. Yes, I do have a few of those. Shut up!) She works at the Starbucks just up the way from my house, and posted this:
“Of all people, I’m rescuing kitties. I don’t even like animals.” — at Starbucks.
I had seen this cat with a few kittens near the entrance to the Starbucks drive-thru myself, so I offered to help. After all, we have a little bit of experience with feral cats (Read “My Cat is a Slutty Welfare Mom”) so this should be a snap, right?
My daughter and I went to Starbucks on Thursday afternoon with a squirrel-sized trap (the babies are just about five weeks old, so the big trap that my friend had wasn’t going to do the trick. We loaded it up with bacon-flavored spam, because everything’s better with bacon, and set it in the bushes next to the hollow in the sidewalk the kitties were using as their lair.
We caught the first one, and brought him home, transferring the small snarling and yowling ball of gray fur into a wire kennel, and headed back to Starbucks for the next one. When we got back with kitty number two, kitty number one was nowhere to be found. The wily little guy had discovered that when the panel at the bottom of the kennel slides forward a little bit, the opening at the bottom was just wide enough for him to slip through. Once he heard his brother meow though, he betrayed his position with a meow of his own and we cornered him behind the dryer. The fugitive was recaptured and we went back for kitty number three. We captured the last kitty the next morning and had five babies in all. There was also a sixth baby who had been captured when my friend got the mama cat.
We brought the whole lot to the Animal Birth Control Clinic and they were reunited with their mommy and brother who were captured the previous day. One of the kitties was instantly adopted by a barista at Starbucks, and the rest and mama, who the Starbucks staff had dubbed Cappuccino, came home with us to grow up in our barn. I wasn’t really expecting to bring home six cats (My sweetheart is a saint for not kicking me out into the barn with the kitties when I came home with all of them!) but they certainly couldn’t be returned to the drive-thru. They’re too little to even pull a shot let alone foam milk or blend a frapuccino. So, I guess congratulations are in order to Cappuccino, Starbuck, Mocha, Latte, Breve, and Frappy on their new home.
The best part: In five weeks we get to repeat the process when these babies are ready to be fixed… altered… neutered… have their balls or uteruses excised. The good news: Since the Animal Birth Control Clinic has a grant right now, all of their initial health care and neutering will be free. YAY!
Later this month, the Animal Birth Control Clinic will be announcing the details for their annual “No Balls Ball,” a gala they put on every year to raise funds. How could I not attend a function with such an obvious and tacky title?