From the first time I turned the light off and climbed my bed, it’s been six hours.

Six hours is probably normal for other people; it’s luxury for me.

The first time I laid down and praise the Lord, it’s that fight again. Two cats, at the back of the house. I didn’t know who those were because all my outdoor cats were inside the front yard, but I woke up regardless, sliding the kitten above me aside, put on my jacket and go check it out.

I didn’t find anything. The warriors were probably on the roof somewhere and the next day some neighbor would most likely came to me and complained about my cats being noisy.

Whenever people around see cats, it’s very common to think that they are Josie’s so everybody complained to Josie, threaten Josie, kill the cat or tied them up inside sacks and throw it into Josie’s front yard. That will teach Josie a lesson.

Until quite a few incidents when the original owner would pop on their faces with nastiest claim and accusation.

That doesn’t teach anyone any lesson.

The second time I laid down and praise God (I still have five hours) It’s Super Junior poking on the girls. He loves to make threatening gestures and let the girls growl. Inching on them until the girls flat on the floor, and when the girls eventually run away, he will pretend to chase them but stop halfway and turn around, poking the other.

Only the girls.

So I slide the kitten on top of me again, turn the light on, scoop the Don Quixote De Super Junior and get him in one of the cage.

The girls would look at him with sheer satisfaction. That will teach the jerk his lesson.

Maybe not. He’s been doing that for months now no matter how many times he got his time out.

On my way back Simba asked for a chin scratch. Why not? I gave him his chin scratch. Then Creme wants hers too, so she stayed on the line for about two minutes. Then she lost patience and pat my face, with claws out.

I clip everyone’s nail but a nail is a nail with or without French manicure. I screamed, Creme ran away, my lips were torn.

She watched me in horror trying to stop the bleeding and never again tried to get near me and if she wants anything, she use meows only. That event teach her a lesson, for maybe I think a week.

Simba, however, was not ready to let go of my arm, so when I put him down to get some tissue, he showed his disagreement with his own outstretched nail, trying to hang on my T-shirt.

It’s just a T shirt, and ten more holes won’t matter. No lesson learned and it’s Simba. He never learn any lesson. He wants some, he gets some, constant nagging, pat on the cheek, scratching the bare leg, running off with one shoe…

When I laid back on my bed the fourth time, and still praise God since I have three hours (better than none) I remembered I forgot to put the flake food for fish back in the cabinet (with all the Creme and Simba mishap), so again I slide the kitten on top of me and get back out, by then Sage already kick it off the fish tank’s top. The cap went off and it smelled like seaweed everywhere.

So I better clean it up and scrub the floor before some other cat grows idea to pee on it and I ended up cleaning the whole cattery again.

Lesson learned. Before turning off light, whatever happened, even if I have chopped limb, always check for everything.

On my way back, I stayed a little by the gray tabby kitten in “Courage”. She had asthma and she breathe like flute. She hang in there, day by day, but asthma takes time, It’s not like someone got a hiccup, drink a ton and get it done. It’s Sunday by the way and it’s past midnight, so better not lecture me on getting medicine bla bla bla. No one knows she has asthma before. Her flute breathing didn’t even start until Friday night.

So I laid back down for the fifth time at 12:16, but only for one second, because the black kitten who supposed to climb on my chest immediately after poo at the corner of the bed.

Her name is Becca by the way. From Bear Cub. She learned to use the litter box and she learned to paw on my arm if she needs to run out and use the toilet but every now and then she lost her lesson somewhere and pee or poo somewhere in the corner.

Too bad I didn’t take a picture. Cali’s “eeeeyuck!” face is priceless, although he learned his lesson. Now he knows how to put his two front legs high on the door and I would know he needs to have some business arrangement.

I clean everything up (and praise God for pee in the conspicuous corner, peroxide and alcohol) turn off the light and laid down the sixth time on the bed.

It was 1:18 am, Monday morning.

I passed out and wake up at 2:30 when Pothos and Freed had a Showdown in Litttle Tokyo.

Little Becca learned her lesson. She slides down from my chest on her own and let me scramble like a drunkard to the back while the two musketeers ran out in the hope I wouldn’t figure out.

Of course I did. I remembered each of their sounds even in the middle of my dream.

Grab Pothos and he went to detention, chase Freed and he too had time out. I learned my lesson. Usually it’s Freed. He will pick a fight with one other cat and no matter how many times I tell him off he will run away but “will be bakh” like Terminator. If I remove his target there will be others. If I remove him only he will soon pick a fight with Super Junior, or whoever passing by, usually of course, Pothos; who loves to sleep in one of the cages. Not his fault, but in this case, I’d be ticking time bomb. So both go. Pothos has his four stars hotel room, Freed will be release on bail tomorrow.

Talking about tomorrow I meant Monday, and it’s already Monday anyway.

So I came back to my bed and slump down, checking my email. Becca by my side.

She did nothing, says nothing. She just watch me.

When she is sure I stay still for more than half an hour, she climbed my chest gingerly, curled up, and sleep.

I stayed still for about one hour, transferring heaps of photos of the cats to memory card when little white letters flashing on my screen “Transfer Error”

I restarted the phone and find about 1250 pictures, two Gigabytes, gone. Zip, nada.

Of course I jumped up sitting and grumbling and poor Becca fell to my lap.

I felt so sorry for her I apologized profusely and throw my phone to the side of the bed, lay back down and put her on my chest, but she won’t sleep. She slid down my chest and sit next to me, then slowly turn her back and curl on my side instead. Then, she sleeps in peace until noon.

Lesson learned.

~ Josie



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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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