cat rescue

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How this rapper quit his music career to start a cat rescue

“I think something as selfless as rescue could be an example to the world of unity and working together,” said Sterling Davis, a.k.a. the TrapKing.

Sterling Davis, aka The Trap King.

Sterling Davis, aka The Trap King.Weir MediaNov. 29, 2020, by Jen Reeder

This story was originally published on Today.com.

Atlanta resident Sterling Davis was on a break from a rap tour when he applied for a job at the county shelter scooping kitty litter. He just wanted to stay busy and make a little money. Plus, he’s always loved animals, like his cat at the time, Rick James.

“I did horrible in the interview because they had cats in the room and I was playing with all the cats, kissing all the cats,” he told Today.

Even though he didn’t really answer any of the questions because he was distracted by the friendly felines, he got the job because, as the person who hired him said, “We’re not seeing people like you with cats.”

Davis, 40, started helping shelter employees with trap-neuter-return cases. The team would trap community cats (formerly called “feral”), bring them to the shelter to be vaccinated and spayed or neutered, and then return them to their outdoor realm.

While Davis learned about TNR, he came to another realization.

Sterling TrapKing Davis
Most community cats wouldn’t do well inside a home, so trap-neuter-return is the humane alternative to euthanasia. TNR also reduces feline overpopulation, curbs the spread of disease and helps with rodent control.Courtesy of Sterling TrapKing Davis

“At the county shelter, there were no men and no Black people that worked in the cat department,” he said. “When I would go out and do TNR with all my friends, it would be all women — that’s who trained me. I finally asked the difficult question: ‘Where are all the guys and where are all the Black people?’’

The answer: There’s just you.

Davis realized he had a new calling. He let his band know he would not be coming back on tour. Instead, he was going to devote all his time to cat rescue as the TrapKing.

After five years of working at the shelter run by LifeLine Animal Project and training with Best Friends Animal Society, Davis founded the nonprofit TrapKing Humane Cat Solutions in 2017.

His bold goal: to change stereotypes of men in cat rescue and bridge the communication gap between Black communities and predominately white animal welfare organizations.

“I’ve seen rescue be something that’s looked at as hard, tedious, sad,” he said. “If people can see me and I make this look like this is a rock-star type life, this is fun — you can do it.”

When his music money dried up, Davis sold everything he owned and bought a conversion van to live in to help pay for cat surgeries and support his nonprofit. He plastered the van with TrapKing logos and people started noticing. He hosted contests for kids, who would watch his humane traps. Whoever texted him first about a cat in a trap won $20, second place got $15 and so on.

Sterling TrapKing Davis
Sterling Davis has always loved cats. “They’re pretty amazing creatures,” he told TODAY. Courtesy of Sterling TrapKing Davis

“I started going into neighborhoods and kids would see me like the ice cream truck,” he said with a chuckle. “I would pull into apartment complexes and see young boys running up to the van trying to give me cats. ‘Hey Trap, look — I got a cat. Do I get some money?’”

As the TrapKing became better known, opportunities arose. The Atlanta Humane Society offered to spay and neuter cats he brought for free, which was a huge help since he wasn’t charging anyone for his services.

Davis, who enlisted in the Navy right out of high school and served for two years as an operations specialist manning the ship’s radar, said he believes his experiences have helped him connect with people from all walks of life as the TrapKing.

“I think being in the military, being around different people, different cultures and being in entertainment is what actually helped me better communicate with all types of people and better communicate this mission,” he said. “I’ve literally been pushing to make TNR community cat care as common as recycling and get more people engaged in so many fun ways.”

It hasn’t always been easy. Early on when Davis was returning cats to a predominately Black neighborhood, a group of men walked up and told him: “White people put tracking devices and diseases in these cats to hurt the Black community and you’re helping that. You’re bringing them into the neighborhood.”

“I was like, ‘Wow, that’s so wrong.’ It was really difficult to explain it because all the Black community could see was this is a white person’s thing,” he said.

Over time, perceptions have changed. When protests erupted across America in the wake of the killing of George Floyd, Davis launched a T-shirt campaign called “Allies in Rescue, Allies in Life.” He announced he would donate all of the funds to the nonprofit Campaign Zero, which promotes policy changes to end police violence. Support from rescue advocates and organizations was overwhelming.

“I got a lot of feedback from the Black community on that, like, ‘So you got all of these animal people to donate to issues other than just cats or dogs?’” he recalled. “I’m like, ‘Yeah — we’re allies in rescue and allies in life.’ So that really turned a lot of things around.”

A few months ago, Davis was setting a trap for a cat that surprised him by jumping into his arms. He adopted her and named her Alanis Mewissette.
A few months ago, Davis was setting a trap for a cat that surprised him by jumping into his arms. He adopted her and named her Alanis Mewissette. Courtesy of Sterling TrapKing Davis

Davis now runs TrapKing Humane Cat Solutions from an RV, which he shares with his cats Bowie, Damita Jo and Alanis Mewissette. He hopes to travel across the country soon promoting TNR and fundraising for animal shelters. He’s also pushing for the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts to start offering a TNR badge.

Through it all, he’s continuing his outreach to communities and modeling his motto, “You don’t lose cool points for compassion.”

“I’ve had a lot of parents reach out to me and say that their son gets made fun of because he likes cats,” he said. “I just want it to be known that you cannot lose cool points for compassion. If you are doing something compassionate, you gain cool points.”

The TrapKing would love to see the rescue community find ways to put aside any differences and work together toward the common goal of saving the lives of pets.

“I think something as selfless as rescue could be an example to the world of unity and working together,” he said. “So I want to put that out there.”

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We Can Do More Than We Think We Can

What does it take of us to help an animal in need?  A bit of time, perhaps, and some inconvenience.  We’ve helped one animal to suffer less.  This small victory does not have a widespread impact, but it certainly changes the world for that one animal.DSC_0135 2

It’s easy to bypass an animal in distress, a lost dog, a stray cat, injured creature, a starving animal.  It’s easy to turn away and to assume that others will do something.  Most of us don’t do anything.  It requires giving of ourselves or our time in some small capacity, and we’re busy, busy, busy.  I believe that each time we turn away, some small portion of our humanity is eroded.

Years ago I made an agreement with myself: when I see an animal in need, I will do whatever I can to remedy the situation.  I’ve found that “whatever I can do” is generally more than I had originally thought.  This has led me to capture stray dogs and humanely trap stray cats and deliver them to the SPCA, to gently instruct children and others in kindness to animals, to intervene when I see human cruelty to animals, to become a vegetarian, to inconveniently arrive late at meetings when I’m rescuing an animal.  I sleep better at night for all this.

My dream is to have a widespread impact on humane treatment of animals.  If each of us engaged in some small gesture of kindness, of help toward animals, so much suffering could be reduced.  Will you join me?

raleigh

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Why Do I Inconvenience Myself to Help an Animal in Need?

56149118_3d9b94d590Why do I inconvenience myself to help an animal in need?  I’ve been known to be late for meetings, wading into the field alongside the road to call a skinny, scared dog to me and deliver him to the SPCA so that he can be helped, reunited with his owners or placed in a caring home.  I’ve been known to humanely trap a feral cat, have her spade, release her, and provide ongoing food, water, and shelter to her.  I’ve been known to adopt a rescue cat, a rescue dog.  I’ve been known to telephone for help and wait by the side of an struggling, car-struck deer until animal control arrives to put it out of its misery.  I’ve been known to contribute to neutering costs for people in financial hardship.  Why, I’ve been asked, why?

The reason:  because I feel deeply, can empathize with the feelings of others, and I care about the suffering and experience of individual animals.  Of course animals can feel pain and fear.  Of course they can suffer.  I have a commitment to myself to do what I can to help, and it turns that with minimal effort, I can do a lot more than I originally thought I could.  Doing so allows me to live in peaceful alignment with my values.  Yes, it can be a nuisance at times, but it’s worth it.  In the bigger picture, it doesn’t require that much of me, really, to help a creature to experience less pain, less hunger, less thirst, less bitter cold.

What if each of us committed to helping an animal in need?  It’s so much easier to turn away, but that small sense of satisfaction that comes from bringing relief to another sentient being is a reward in and of itself.  I am immensely grateful for the ability not to turn away.

 

 

 

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Part III – I Was Born on an Amish Farm in the Middle of Winter

DSC_0225For part I:   https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/13/i-was-born-in-the-middle-of-winter/
Part II: https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/20/part-ii-i-was-born-on-an-amish-farm-in-the-middle-of-winter/

I do not understand why Gracie doesn’t want to play.  She runs from me, and when I tackle and bite her, she doesn’t reciprocate.  She just hisses and yells.  I suspect she needs training on how to play, so I do it again and again.  I keep waiting for her to clobber me, but she never does.  Mostly she skulks around trying to avoid me, looking left and right before exiting a room.  My surprise attack is one of my favorites, but she doesn’tDSC_0219 seem to like it.  Her lack of playfulness makes no sense to me.  I overheard my people say that I have no skill in alternate perspective taking.

DSC_0348Eventually, I get bored with Gracie—there’s only so much enjoyment one can derive from being hissed at.  I turn my attention to my people, swatting them as they go by my perch and occasionally chewing on them if I’m more rambunctious than usual.  I mean it in the nicest possible way, of course, and I keep my claws sheathed, but they don’t seem to like this.  What’s wrong with them?  Over time they’ve started referring to me as Bothersome Bean instead of Mr. Bean.

There is one game my people and I have enjoyed: fetch.  It originally went like this: they threw a toy for me, I chased it, I dropped it, they walked over, sighed, picked it up, and threw it for me again.  This game had minimal appeal to me because it was always on their terms (strict) and their timetables (limited) and, sadly, they became bored with it quickly.  I changed up the game, and they seem to have caught on: I bring them a toy—pop-off milk carton rings are best (and they smell of fragrant milk and remind me of my early youth)—they throw it, I chase it and bring it back to them, and they throw it again.  They’re able to do this even when they’re busy doing other things—and they are always busy doing, doing, doing—so this suits me perfectly.DSC_0096 - Version 3

I can happily play fetch for 20 minutes at a stretch, panting all the while.  I’ve heard my people complain that this does not seem to tire me out, and they also complain about “my behavior” in general.  They think there might be something wrong with me—as if biting Gracie were an issue.  They know nothing.  Still, they’ve tried many, many things with me: admonishing me, ignoring me, distracting me, and implementing ideas various people have suggested.  Nothing works because there is nothing wrong with me; it’s they who are the issue.  They just don’t understand.  Even the Jackson Galaxy (My Cat from Hell, on Animal Planet) website jingle tries to tell them.  It goes like this:  “You’re a bad cat.  I’m not a bad cat.  You’re a bad cat.  I’m not a bad cat.  You’re a bad cat.  I’m not a bad cat. . . I’m just misunderstood.”

I know this: although I am Bothersome Bean to them and to sweet Gracie, I know I am essentially good, and I trust that I have found my forever home with them.  They said so.

to be continued…
Part IV: https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/10/04/part-iv-in-the-middle-of-winter/

Do you have ideas on how to gently stop kittens and cats from biting?  Please share them with us—via our contact page or untoldanimalstories@gmail.com  Thank you!

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Erna’s Garden

purple tulips ID-100139402Erna’s home carried the scent of roses and crisp cotton sheets.  The kitchen was sunny, with flowery curtains billowing in on the wind.  It was as if the worn oak floorboards themselves contained comfort.

These days Erna’s gardens are overgrown with tassel-topped grasses waving in the wind.  The shutters and gutters are slightly askew, and moss grows on the white clapboard.  Sometimes I come to watch the weeping willow’s arms sweep the pebbly driveway, and to remember.

I knew Erna long before she knew me.  From the woods where I lived I watched as she carried a basket on her hip to the clothesline. . . as she tilted her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. . . as she weeded the garden and gathered an armful of flowers for her table.

One afternoon I sauntered over to her as she was pegging out the laundry.  “Oh!” she said, “Oh!  Wait here.”black and white cat ID-10029960

She came back with remnants of a pork chop and a small bowl of water.  Each afternoon after that I visited her.  She sat next to me on the patio as I ate, talking about anything that occurred to her.  I think she was lonely.

Cold weather came early that year, and the wind bit through my fur.  One day, as I waited for her on the patio, Erna held the door wide open.  “Well, come on,” she said.  I walked in and made myself at home.

By day I kept her company in the kitchen as she worked, her shoulders soft and rounded, her hands moving in and out of shafts of light.  She hummed tunelessly to the soft, repeating clang of the wooden spoon in the mixing bowl.

By evening we sat by the fire in winter, and by the open window in summer.  Erna worked with her hands, always, making afghans, quilts, and linen napkins, always in shades of green.

By night I slept on the window seat under the dormer, the stars glimmering overhead.

In time, Erna became ill.  People came and went from the house.  I slept curled by her feet, keeping an eye on her, caring for her as I could.  She passed away anyway.  I watched them carry her from the house, but it wasn’t her.  I sensed her around me, free.

A neighbor woman took me home with her.  I’ve made my life there with her family, and it’s a good life.  But sometimes I like to come here to Erna’s garden, to sense her, to feel our life together.

•Images, in order of appearance, courtesy of chaiwat & foto76/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

•Interested in having your story/rescue story published? untoldanimalstories@gmail.com