STARDUST AND THE SPIDERS

He lived long and pauper on a small sideway of a minimarket in the middle of the market. Blind, dirty and hungry.

Many times, his missteps sent him to the bottom; of the sewer, of the curb, of the potholes around the parking lot that seen thousands and hundred more vehicle come and go with the heartbeat of the trade.

But my house is full, and there are two blind cats and many more with one eye, one leg, or some other degrees of crippling that require attention, kittens aside.

Perhaps, if he can survive there that long, he can survive there longer. And every day I would come, and he would know me by my smell, and the smell of freshly steamed tuna in my hand, and he would run toward the center of the smell storm, bumping everything from car tires to legs to metal poles, to rock, all the way on his way down like pinball on a tilt.

But it’s more because there is no money even if I took him in.

Eventually, I brought him home; because I am not good at watching cats going pinball, and because there are new vendor there selling bagel like traditional breakfast and coffee, prepared on a bucket of burning coals into which he bumped and trespass several times throughout the day.

It was around the day the world lost David Bowie.

The vets said, it’s not because he is white. He is not even white. He has Siamese print on his then bathed, cleaned fluffy fur. It’s because he has extra layer of third eyelid that blocked his vision that won’t go on its own even with medicine. There was possibility that he can see again if those fourth eyelid were surgically removed.

But he looked like a grandpa, though his teeth said otherwise.

I signed a special waiver to let him have the surgery because of the risk it posed on advanced age cats; though, if it turned out that the layer had done damage to his vision, he would have to stay with us forever instead of being eartipped after neuter and moved somewhere safe. He spends his life on the road after all, and he was stressed to have to live with so many others.

When he first opened his eyes again after the surgery, it was hilarious. He was sitting there on the table like Nicholas Cage when he found the treasure of Knight Templar.

And he loves to watch the spiders; weaving their web on our ceiling, buoyed by the wind at night, and he was fascinated at the sparkle of morning dew when it twinkled first thing in the morning, or the rain drops after the rainbow washed the storm away.

He loves to watch them crawling, following them until he can no longer twists his head, follows them until the other cats squished them with their paws, or launched a spiderhunt.

When the first month passed after his surgery he didn’t look like grandpa. He looks like a dad, ten years younger.

And he loves to sing by the window. He loves to watch others from the top of the kitchen cabinet. He loves to look at me bewildered when he saw many of their antics, and he would sing again as he turned back and watch their game.

Our friend Kim Woolbright quote it right: he is singing the song of his people. He is Flame Point Siamese Mix, with a pair of blue eyes and speckles of red on the tip of his fur, so Stardust is his name.

And he loves to watch the spiders; weaving their web on our ceiling, buoyed by the wind at night, and he was fascinated at the sparkle of morning dew when it twinkled first thing in the morning, or the rain drops after the rainbow washed the storm away.

And he loves to sing by the window; singing the song of his people. He loves to watch others from the top of the kitchen cabinet. He loves to look at me bewildered when he saw many of their antics, and he would sing again as he turned back and watch their game.

And he loves to watch my bedroom, before the day reach dawn. He loves to see me peek through the curtain, and tied it to the side, and we will whisper to each other like a lover.

And I love how he now looks like a brother, twenty years younger.

And we would love to sing the song of his people, live long and pauper on the streets and down below; hoping for life renewed, and chance brand new.

~ Josie

paypal.me/whiskerssyndicate

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Josie And The Whiskers' Syndicate

The first and only cat refuge in Bandung (West Java - Indonesia) a capital breeder of a nation without animal welfare law. We care for Bandung's unwanted animals, operate a TNR as much as our budget allows, and continue to educate people about compassion to animals

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