(2011, Blythe, CA)
In which I accidentally rescue a newborn kitten in a Blythe, CA Super 8 parking lot, and spend the next day running around like a crazy person trying to get the kitten help. This is complicated by the fact that Blythe is a middle-of-nowhere desert town, and I am on my way to Los Angeles. What follows is the final stage of my travels with Rico, on the way to Palm Springs and an unsuspecting Animal Samaritans Society.
There's this scene in 'Dumb and Dumber' where the two dudes are singing together.
One yells "Mock!" the other goes "Yeah!"
The first: "Ing!"
The second: "Yeah!"
"Bird!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
That was pretty much me and Rico headed west on I-10 from Blythe to Palm Springs. I fed him right before we left, so he was in a happy full-bellied stupor for a while. Then some miles down the road, he realized he was a poor lonely kitty in an inexplicably vibrating cardboard box and started yelling about it. We discussed the situation for a while:
Rico: "YEAH!"
Me, very cheerfully: "Hey, Rico!"
Rico: "Yeah!"
"How ya doin, baby thing?"
"Yeah..."
"Really? And then what happened?"
"Yeah!"
"He said that?! No way!"
"Yeah! Yeah! YEAH!"
At which point I'd lean over, reach my hand into the box and curl it around him, he'd squeak a bit, and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.
We pulled in to the Animal Samaritans' parking lot, and I took a deep breath and hoped for the best. Picked up Rico's box, and walked in.
An incredibly dry British voice instantly comes from the blonde woman behind the counter. "Oh God. Do not tell me there is a living thing in that box."
I wince apologetically. "There is. I called and left a message earlier. It's an abandoned newborn kitten."
She winces much more impressively than me. "I can't take it. I just can't." Her voice does not allow for wiggle room. "There's no room here, we don't have a fostering program, and our nursing mother already has six kittens. I'm sorry. I just can't take it in."
My stomach drops. "Are you sure? What other options or organizations can I look into here?"
She stares at me. "Animal control." She says it like she'd say, "The cute baby kitten firing squad." I am halfway through thinking there is no way Animal Control is getting hold of Rico when she speaks again. "I don't even want to see it. Quick, let me see it!" She reaches for Rico's box. "Oh, God! He's just so young! He can't take care of himself at all!" He tries crawling up her shirt when she picks him up. She continues muttering to both of us, and then a male volunteer who also wandered over, reasons why she can't help. But I'm thinking there might be hope. I figure discretion is the better part of valor and shut up while she skritches his head and murmurs to him.
At some point while Rico wriggles around, she holds him up to her face, nose to nose. "You must stop squirming. You must, young man! Or I'll have to shake you like an English nanny!" And then she gently kisses him on his nose.
Yeah, I'm thinking there's hope.
Suddenly she looks behind me and her eyes light up."One of my volunteers just pulled up. Let's see if she...Watch this."
A very buff and cheerful blond walks in and says, "Hey, Margaret! What do you have there?"
"A newborn abandoned kitten," Margaret says. Regret and wistfulness now color her voice. "He has to go to animal control."
"Oh no, let me see…oh, what a baby!" Margaret is silent as the woman picks him up and nuzzles him.
Margaret clears her throat. "Jess. Would you be willing to bottle feed him? He's just so tiny and we can't take him. He'll have to go to animal control and you know what'll happen."
"Listen to her," Jess says to me. She rolls her eyes and turns to Margaret. "I know what you're doing. Yes, I'll take the baby. What do I have to do?"
Margaret grins. "You'll have to feed it every two hours. Even through the night. Your life as you know it is over."
"Okay, I can do that. What else?"
"Nothing much. Oh! You'll have to lick his genitals to help him poop."
Jess stares at her.
"Or you can just do it with a warm damp washcloth."
"Uh-huh. We have GOT to start that fostering program."
And so I rode off into the near-sunset, relieved that Rico's in good hands. Fifteen minutes later, I obliviously almost check myself into a men's clothing-optional bed and breakfast, which, as I told the receptionist when he tactfully tried to clue me in, would certainly be an interesting experience. However, perhaps it would be more polite of me to let those already there enjoy each other's company without a random girl walking around. The nice receptionist agreed.