I have had her for a few months now. She used to live around a restaurant at the northernmost part of town where elites live in their soccer field size mansion, unabashed by the grind of life; unlike her, who lives with infection that made her eyes swell, ready to pop out of its socket, parasites, and Chlamydia that eats her slowly but sure, before claiming her life.

The restaurant can’t have her, but the owner didn’t have the heart to dump her either, so he contacted me, and I picked her up the next day.

That same night, my kitty ambulance vet picked her up, and she stayed by her for a few days while our vet tried the best she can to bump her condition enough to withstand eye removal surgery.

It has to be that quick. Her infection spreads silently under her skin and if it reach her brain, nothing will be worth a try.

She came home after four days under my vet’s care, with only one eye.

And every vet loves her. She is sweet and calm, polite and gentle. She does not meow excessively, she took all her pills, and she just look at me pitifully every time I give her injection. Vitamin B (whichever) stings, but she endures it, and forgive and forget.

And everyone loves her. She is clean and white, with small yellow patches on top of her head and her ears. Her tail is ringed, but the rest of her body is pure white.

We all agree that it is best to wait for a while and not fix her immediately because we don’t want to put too much pressure on her. Let her recuperate, let her live her best, let her take as much time as she needs catching up, then we will fix her.

And the longer she stays, the fluffier her fur; the firmer her tummy. She is stronger and healthier. She loves to roll around, and although she bumped on things every now and then, she learns her way around with what eye she has left.

I wanted to call her Elizabeth; from Elizabeth Swann of ‘The Pirates Of The Carribean’; but it doesn’t feel right, somehow.

So I picked other name, but that didn’t feel right as well. So I call her another name, and another, and another. She just look at me with an eye full of wonder, and I knew it then this name or that name somehow didn’t fit.

At one point, I think I’d call her Dolores, after Dolores O’Riordan of The Cranberries, it sort of fit, but not quite fit.

“Is it so difficult to name you?” I asked her once, “You are the simplest, gentlest cat I ever know and it’s so difficult picking a good name for you”

She looked at me. I had this feeling that she was trying to tell me something, but then there was Bandit playing around and she loves Bandit. They clicked.

So she jumped down from her perch and ran to the kitchen.

And I saw something weird as she walked away.

I couldn’t believe it so I ran after her, hold her by the tummy and peeked under her tail again. I took a picture, to a lot of protest and rolling around, but I took one, though it’s kind of blurry.

I send the picture to all my vets, and told them whose it was.

Everyone came back at me with ROFL and teary laughter icon.

“So now you know why all the names you picked doesn’t feel right”, said one vet.

“Apparently not only the body and the tummy that grows”, typed the other.

“Yeah” I replied, “She has balls”

~ 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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