Good day my friends, it’s a beautiful Sunday here in Bandung. The sun is shy, the breeze is kind; and I am sitting here in an empty silence, listening to the alluring Er Hu among the empty silence of a dim sum restaurant.

It’s a promise I made with Christine, that if the cats are doing better by Sunday, today, I will get a little bit of me time in this corner table, taking a deep breath and unwind my coiled and hard strummed nerves.

Let me begin with Cali on video, earlier today at 1:12 am, as you pick up your own cup of Chinese tea and join me in the cuddles of fluffy jackets and a soft couch.

Cali is playing with a dream catcher, made by one of the native tribes of Canada. The dream catcher was a birthday gift that has been guarding me against night terrors for two years.

What is more amazing than just his seemingly unaffected incredible bulk (shhh; midsection), he was just flopping there for days until a few hours prior. He woke up to get his favorite multivitamin paste, he licked it halfheartedly where he usually charged like a hungry lion, and then he came back to my pillow and sleep. His tongue and throat is still full of sore, so I can imagine how torturous it must be for him to try to swallow anything.

So was other cats. Stardust Bowie, Rufus, Simba, Pads, Pascal, Estebel, Libby, Siegfried, Ginger’s mama, Clawde, Purrcy, *sigh* everyone.

At a certain time during the week, I thought this really is going to be the end. I mean, we have financial crisis before, I was running behind on everything and was in the middle of losing everything when all of you technically just burst the door to pieces and carry us to safety. Then, out of that trouble, my body decided it burnt out and I got typhoid.

So there you were again, bursting another door to pieces and carry us to safety.

Then came the bad weather, then came the crazy rains, then came the outbreak.

We went out of the pan and straight into the stove all the way down to hell.

If you are alone in the middle of nowhere with one hundred sick cats, it’s not all that hard to think it is really fate, that this is really the end.

And yet even amidst all the chaos, Christine keeps calling me, and she keeps calling you. She keeps my sight to the front, she keeps making plans. I was just going to let my eyes close and let my ship drifted slowly to Valhalla, but she just keep buzzing around and make this, make that, plan this, plan that.

One of those plans is this quiet Sunday. The quiet I have almost forgotten existed.

The other plan is hiring someone. Since we most likely won’t have any luck with volunteers, we will pay someone, and we will pay this someone a living wage.

At first, I was thinking of re-hiring our gardener, although with a good amount of reservation. He is not exactly the best person to do the job and learning from complications in the past, even more doubt; but he has a short mouth.

Then I remembered another guy from the slum. He works for a cleaning service company, and he once said that he would like to work for me if the chance is there during his off days.

I tried to contact him twice, but we were not connected. I thought that, if he doesn’t bother to return my effort, then maybe it’s time for newspaper classified.

He came very early and waited in front of the fence, even before I wake up.

I told him what his work will be, I told him about the cats, I told him what he will have to earn.

He started yesterday.

I didn’t hope too much because people usually just say this and that and disappear only for me to pick up their slacks and ended up with double the job, but he came yesterday.

I was in the middle of giving the cats their medicine, so I was at loss of words, but he took the bucket full of scrubbers and sprays from my hand, smile on my lost face

When I was done a half an hour later and walked out, my front yard blings.

So I called Ace Hardware and asked to talk to the manager I knew, the only one in the store to know that I am in animal rescue.

And then came a truckload of shelves, ladder, and dog house.

No, seriously, dog house, like that in Snoopy.

More will come today, and when we are done with it, the outdoor cats will have shelter when it rains. The civet cat (wild) who often come for nibbles will have dry food, not soaked biscuits, the bat who came often for my fruit offering won’t have to play duck duck goose with thunder and lightning.

And all of these, we owe it to you.

Yes, you.

They have been waiting for this for years, literally, for years, and I have always run out of money to provide them such decency, but now they have it, because they have you.

Has it start to bloom somewhere in your heart?


Don’t let spring comes ahead of winter.

But do sit, do sit down and keep following our page. I will be streaming through Instagram today and tomorrow

Then you can believe it

Then you can celebrate it.

Then you can rest in a little bit more peace

Then you will see why I always call you angels, heroes, fighters, friends, warriors, family.

Then you will understand why we are The Whiskers’ Syndicate

Then you will understand why I always use “we”. It’s not a royal we, because I really mean you and I.

Then you will understand why, in this “we”, the you is always bigger than the “I”

Because you give us life. You are larger than all of us.

When the whole universe vows to bring us down, it’s not the big guys who pull us through.

It’s you.

Thank you.


Published by

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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