Songbird Season Read online

  The co-op’s assistant manager had three cats at home. Auggie bristled at this challenge, but didn’t protest again. He knew he was outnumbered.

  “Fine. But even if some of my customers would be willing to sign up for this rodeo, not one person’s going to accept anything that smacks of charity.”

  “That’s what we thought,” Doc said. “Fifty bucks per patient is a going rate for these special clinics, and that’s what we’ll charge.”

  “And what if they can’t pay?” Auggie countered. Despite his attempts to poke holes in their plan, Melinda sensed he might be coming around, just a bit. “What happens then?”

  Doc and Melinda looked at each other. “We’re working on that,” she said. Auggie raised his eyebrows in curiosity, but she pushed on before he could ask any more questions.

  They hoped to have the clinic in three weeks. Melinda had a press release ready, and Nancy would add it to the city’s social media posts. Crates and carriers would be provided to anyone requesting them. The kitties would be ready to go home that evening; no one would spend the night at City Hall.

  “You know, Auggie,” Melinda said, “if you don’t want to hold the cats when they come out of surgery, there is something else you could do. How about you help with check-in? The kitties will still be awake then, and ready to scratch your eyes out.” She made a clawing motion with her hand, and the rest of the guys started to chuckle.

  “Don’t laugh. You know I don’t like cats. But if the rest of you are helping out, it’ll look bad if I don’t do something. OK, you can put your little sign up at the co-op. But I make no promises about the rest. If I get any ribbing from anyone, I’ll tell them to call you, Melinda.”

  “Contact information will be on the poster. Once everything’s set,” she exchanged cautious looks with Doc, “we’ll get started with publicity. Our target area will only be Hartland County, at least this time around.”

  “This time?”

  “If it goes well, it could turn into a regular event.” Melinda set her empty cup on the sideboard. “I better get the store ready to open. And Auggie,” she said sweetly, “I appreciate your support.”

  The cat clinic idea weighed on her mind the rest of the day. If Auggie could be persuaded to help publicize it, or at least not undermine the plan with his pointed commentary, that would be a step forward. She just hoped everything else would fall into place. Until now, every community project she’d volunteered for had been met with excitement and appreciation. But this one might draw ridicule, if not outright resistance.

  Unfortunately, not everyone with cats on their property saw them as pets in need of care. Auggie was right no one would accept a handout, but some people might still balk at spending money on something they didn’t feel was important. Using City Hall for such a program would open their plans up to further scrutiny, but there was no other location available in Prosper. And they wanted to keep the event in town so it would be easily accessible for the locals needing these services.

  Of course, that could be another problem: What if they had so many requests they had to turn people down? Karen and Doc had estimated how many surgeries could be completed in so many hours, based on the number of volunteers, but there were sure to be farm emergencies that would pull Doc away.

  Melinda had quickly reached out to pet-food companies and rescue organizations to see what grants or other assistance might be available. But she doubted any financial support could be set up in time. Karen and Doc decided they would cover any outstanding costs.

  “I’m not going to turn anyone away,” she told Melinda. “This is too important to make it about money. Oh, why didn’t I think of this back in January? Kitten season is already upon us. We could have done so much more, and sooner.”

  “We’ll start where we are, and then try to keep it going,” Melinda had told her friend. “All of these cats will have better lives as a result. We have to focus on that.”

  Melinda was soon reminded of why such services were desperately needed in her community. Gertrude Millard, who cared for a colony of feral cats on the edge of town, called the store that afternoon and asked a favor.

  She had wrenched her back and wasn’t supposed to lift anything heavy for a least a week. Bill always loaded those economy-size bags of cat food into her car; could he bring them to her house, just this once? She would gladly pay a delivery fee. Melinda said she would drop the food off herself, and to forget about an extra charge. Gertrude talked about her kitties every time she came into Prosper Hardware, but Melinda had yet to meet them.

  It didn’t take long. Just as she reached the vacant lot separating Gertrude’s modest home from the rest of the houses along Elm Street, a tortoiseshell cat darted across the pavement. The asphalt ended just beyond Gertrude’s property line, then dwindled into a dirt path that met up with an abandoned crossing along the nearby railroad tracks.

  The evening was pleasantly warm, and several cats of varying colors and sizes lounged in the sunshine or snoozed under the trees. The purr of Melinda’s car caused several of them to suddenly sprint across the yard, as if they knew what she had in her trunk.

  Gertrude was watching for her, too. Cane in hand, she shuffled out to the front stoop just as Melinda cut the engine.

  “Oh, I can’t thank you enough!” The elderly woman patted her wispy white hair with her free hand, and her tired brown eyes lit up with gratitude. “My back’s bothering me something terrible, and Edgar’s feeling low after his chemo treatment yesterday. I’m about worn out.”

  A chorus of meows met Melinda as she started up the sidewalk with the first bag in her arms. Several cats were soon under her feet, despite Gertrude’s gentle instructions to “let this nice lady get through.” More appeared around the corner of the house. One half-grown black kitten popped out the garage’s side door just as Melinda opened it.

  “Oh, Timmy, I didn’t know you’d snuck in there!” Gertrude shook her head. “He’s tricky, that one. Yes, that’s the perfect spot, right there by the workbench. I can scoop out of the bag easily enough.”

  “How … how many are there?” Melinda gasped, overwhelmed by so much motion and all the pairs of curious eyes.

  “Depends on the day.” Gertrude looked away. “Might you grab those empty coffee cans and fill them with kibble? It’s about supper time, anyway.”

  The open back porch was stocked with food and water bowls. Several cat shelters, made from plastic totes stuffed with straw, were lined up under the flaking trim of the large window that looked into the tiny house’s living room. Melinda could see Edgar slouched in his lift chair as the news blared away on the television.

  Gertrude shifted her cane and tried to reach for a water bowl, but winced. “Left my grabber in the house. Another week and the doctor says I’ll have most of my mobility back. Can’t happen soon enough.”

  Melinda dumped the water bowls over the edge of the porch, then filled them at the outside faucet. A stocky orange cat with a white patch on its chest suddenly appeared at her feet and tried to drink straight from the tap.

  “Lucky!” Gertrude scolded gently. “You know how to be a good boy. Let Melinda help, now. She’s going to fill your dishes, just give her a chance.”

  “How did he get his name?” Melinda paused long enough to pat Lucky on the head.

  “Oh, I found him out behind the garage, right after that big blizzard we had in January.” Gertrude shook her head with wonder. “He was lucky he wasn’t frozen right through.”

  A beautifully marked gray-and-peach tabby began to rub her cheek against Gertrude’s faded corduroy pants. “Hi there, Miss Muffin, how are you today? My, are you getting fat! She’s one of my best mousers. She likes to come in the house once in a while, go to the basement and see what she can scare up down there.”

  Melinda smiled, but she was cringing inside. Muffin’s swollen flanks made it clear she was carrying more than digested mice.

  The sound of clanging dishes and the rattle of kibble in the bowls
brought even more cats into the yard. Several popped over the raised railroad bed, their tales held high with excitement. Melinda didn’t even try to count them all.

  “Gertrude,” she began gently, “Doc and Karen are starting a special clinic for cats that … need help. Maybe you’d like to bring some of your kitties?”

  “Oh, they’re doing just fine,” Gertrude said warmly as she played with Muffin. “I keep them fed and watered, and they have those little houses there. Some of them sleep under the porch, too.” She pointed to a gaping hole in the broken lattice. “They are such sweet babies, rarely give me any trouble.”

  Melinda struggled with what to say. She didn’t want to hurt Gertrude’s feelings, but it was obvious this woman didn’t have the money to give her colony more than the basics. She wondered if Gertrude and Edgar ever went without so the cats wouldn’t go hungry.

  “Your cats are wonderful but … maybe there are too many of them? It doesn’t take long for things to get out of control. You have, what, at least twenty? I’d guess half of them are girls.”

  Gertrude carefully lowered herself into a rusted metal porch chair. A large brown cat jumped into her lap and began to purr. “I can’t give any of them away,” she finally said, then suddenly looked up.

  “Did the sheriff send you? I told that deputy these babies have nowhere else to go!” There were tears in her eyes. “People dump them out here, I know they do, but I can’t catch them at it. My kitties don’t know any other home, and we …”

  Melinda put a comforting hand on Gertrude’s frail shoulder. “No, no, I haven’t talked to anyone like that. Doc and Karen can get your cats spayed and neutered, and give them vaccinations to help them stay healthy. That’s all I meant.”

  Gertrude was crying now, and Melinda wondered how many times law enforcement officers had knocked on her door. Prosper was so tiny it didn’t have a police department, and relied on the county for those services. She glanced at the other houses on this dead-end street, and wondered which neighbor filed the complaint.

  “If you could show you’re taking steps to keep the population under control, maybe that would make things easier. And don’t worry about the clinic’s fees. We’re looking into ways to cover the cost for …”

  She had to choose her words carefully, or Gertrude’s pride would not allow her to participate. “Well, cases where there are so many kitties in one location.”

  “Like a group discount?” Gertrude looked up, suddenly hopeful.

  “Exactly. How about you call me when you’re low on food again, and I’ll bring it by. And I’ll let you know more about the special clinic. Maybe some of your girls could go, at least. Why, I could take them myself, it’ll be right here in town. How does that sound?”

  Gertrude tried for a smile, then nodded. Melinda took that as a yes and, not wanting to give the woman a chance to change her mind, said her goodbyes and hurried back to her car, checking to make sure none of the cats had followed her around the house.

  When she reached the co-op’s parking lot, she pulled off Main Street and reached for her phone. “Hey, Karen? I think we better start networking to borrow as many humane traps as we can find. We’re going to need them.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The Prosper council approved the plans for the spay clinic, but their vote wasn’t the unanimous show of support Melinda and Karen had hoped to receive. Jake Newcastle challenged the proposal, saying a public space shouldn’t be used for business purposes. Jerry pointed out this was a nonprofit project, and that many communities allow groups and organizations to hold events in their buildings, but Jake stood his ground.

  “I’m not grumbling about this because I enjoy being the voice of dissent,” Jake said, but from where Melinda sat in the audience, it was clear that he did. “And I don’t hate cats, either. I’ve had several residents complain about this idea, saying it sets a dangerous precedent, blurs the lines between city and commercial interests. We don’t let other groups rent out City Hall.”

  “Well, to be fair,” Frank commented, “I don’t know if anyone else has ever asked.”

  Jake leaned down the metal table in Frank’s direction. “That’s my point exactly, we don’t have a policy on this issue. And besides, our only priority is to look after the city’s interests.” His voice took on an ominous tone. “Everyone else needs to deal with their own problems.”

  Melinda sank down in her chair. Jake was just getting warmed up, and the spay-day plan wasn’t his biggest concern. Jerry must have sensed it, too.

  “Ok, everybody,” he said quickly, “let’s just take a vote and move on. Can I get a motion here?”

  Doc suddenly stood up. “Mayor Simmons, I’d like to amend Prosper Veterinary Service’s request to use the council chambers. As a former member of this board, I understand the need for protocol and debate.” He directed this last comment at Jake, who crossed his arms.

  “Perhaps the council will want to create a new ordinance governing usage of city buildings, but for now, I’d like to offer a hundred-dollar donation to the city’s beautification fund in lieu of a rental fee for our upcoming event.”

  Karen elbowed Melinda. “That’ll buy a lot of flowers for the baskets along Main Street,” she whispered. “Aren’t those going to be put up in a few weeks?”

  Melinda tried to keep a straight face. Doc knew exactly how to appeal to the cash-strapped town’s leaders.

  The motion passed four-to-one and, with only two weeks until the event, Karen and Melinda shifted their promotional plans into high gear. An animal rescue group provided a pack of brochures on the benefits of spaying and neutering, and the pamphlets were set out near the flyers tacked up on the library’s bulletin board and offered on the front counters at City Hall, the vet clinic, and Prosper Hardware.

  Sam took a few for his insurance office, and notices were also posted at the local churches. But curious stares and snickers broke out at the co-op when Melinda marched in and tacked up the final poster by the coffeemaker.

  “Waste of time,” one man finally said. “You can’t catch them all. There’s more of them every time you turn around.”

  “Every little bit helps,” Melinda said sweetly as she set the last stack of brochures on the table. “The math related to this is, as you say, rather astounding.” She placed a flyer in his hand, and he didn’t give it back.

  “Mine won’t even come out of the haymow when we’re in the barn,” someone else grumbled, “except for that orange one my daughter loves so much. And we feed them, too.”

  “Well, we might do it,” one man sighed. “But we’ve only got the one carrier.”

  “We can help you with that. Live traps, too, for the sneaky ones. Have a good day!” As she started for the door, she noticed the last man shyly reaching across the table and picking up a pamphlet.

  Doc gave Melinda a high-five when he came into Prosper Hardware the next morning. “We had two more calls yesterday about the cat clinic. The slots are really starting to fill up.”

  George raised his coffee mug in salute. “Sounds like it’s going to be a success. But Melinda, how are you getting all this done so quickly? Are you really going to have everything lined up in time?”

  “Well, I hope so,” she said over her shoulder as she hurriedly dusted the counter. One of the young chicks had escaped out the chicken house’s front door that morning, and the chase had put her behind schedule. “Besides, it’s distracting me from wanting to get my garden planted. Mister Master Gardener over there says I have to wait at least another week.”

  “That’s right.” Jerry pointed at her. “Hold off a bit longer, there’s months of warm weather to come.”

  “While you’re waiting,” Auggie suggested, “you can at least get your own load of black gold worked into the ground.” He paused for a moment. “You do know how to run the lawn tractor, right?”

  “Of course I do. Nathan gave me some lessons, it’s easy.”

  The guys didn’t need to know that the first ti
me Melinda took the little tractor for a spin, she nearly crashed it into the pussy willows on the west side of the garden. But she had the hang of it now. Nathan would still blade the snow from her driveway, but she planned to mow the entire yard herself from now on.

  Melinda was also gaining confidence behind Lizzie’s wheel. She’d taken the battered old truck on a cautious trip around the mile section one evening last week, then chugged up the Hensleys’ long driveway for a quick cup of tea with Mabel and Angie, who was now seven months’ pregnant.

  Angie insisted she didn’t need a baby shower, but Mabel wasn’t deterred. “It’s their first boy,” she whispered to Melinda as they walked out to their vehicles. “Emma and Allison can share clothes and things, but this is going to be a whole different experience. I’ll call Angie’s mom. Maybe, with Nathan’s help, we can work out a way to surprise her.”

  Without Lizzie, Melinda never would have been able to keep up with all the requests for sheep compost. The filled buckets were heavier than she expected, and her arms already ached from shoveling the dense dirt. There was no way she could have carried them up to the garage from the pasture, and the handcart she used for hay and straw bales could only hold one bucket at a time. Lizzie’s flatbed held more pails than she could fill in a few hours of scooping. She just lined them up by the fence, locked the sheep in the barn, then pulled Lizzie through the large gate and loaded up the back. Hobo had quickly learned to leap into Lizzie’s passenger seat, and loved to hang his head out the open window as they carefully bumped across the farmyard to the garage.

  And it wasn’t just the compost buyers who were turning up her lane. Many of the egg buyers were back, too. Melinda kept the cash in a little metal box in the kitchen and, when she was dirty and sore and tired, liked to count it again and dream about all the little improvements she could make to her farm with this extra revenue.