The initial schedule:
Ship out two orders, get some food, buy meat and vegetable, drop by the SOHO complex to pick up a cat for spaying, go home, clean the house, post and fundraising.
ETD: 11 am when people go to Friday prayers to avoid traffic
ETA: 4 pm when offices close (during Ramadhan office close early)

The actual event:

Shipping agent nearby closed, find another agent via Google. The other agent closed, find another agent, and another, and another. Give up and just go to other courier to send one package off, and inform the buyer that the shipping company she chose is closed, and asked whether she would like to change the courier, or wait until tomorrow morning. She choose tomorrow morning.

Get some food at 3 pm. Breakfast at 3 pm? that’s everyday for me. Nearby diner is open, but refused to serve until 4 pm and only for take out. Dine in start at 5:45 pm (Ramadhan fast breaking time). I was sent out with a lecture about respecting people who is fasting as an answer to a single question: “Can you accept take out?” Never mind. Some people have a hole in their head, some people have no hole in their ear, and some have both. I am too hungry to argue anyway.

Get myself a rice bowl and finish at 5 pm

Go to the chicken butcher shop and found out that boneless chicken breast is IDR 55K/kg. The previous day it’s 52K, the day before is 48 K and the day before that was 46K. The (upscale) supermarket where I work has a discount and boneless chicken breast is 53K/kg.

So, go to supermarket, join the loooooooooooooooooooooooooooong line of impatient people glaring at each other because they want to go fast breaking and the way the queue was moving, they won’t get out of the line until tomorrow. All 28 lines of cashier are opened and in service. Additional 8 express cashier provided, but since everyone bought twice the amount their usual stuffs during Ramadhan, it’s like we are going to have war with the entire NATO in twelve hours.

Finally dragged my cart out at 7:15 pm.

That’s OK. Take a deep breath. I can pay bill via mobile app and I still have deposit in there so everything is under control.

I put my groceries in the deposit counter, and since it’s 6:15 pm everyone is still fast breaking, road is absolute bliss while restaurants is like hell. No rider, so I walked to the colony.

You know, people seek heaven in all sort of ways, through religion, through cults, through materialistic pursuit, through suicide bombing (oh yes, I am still sour to those a holes who starts their Ramadhan suicide bombing police stations and churches while carrying their kids).

The restaurant where Fergus and Fuuta stayed is in the verge of bankrupt. It’s a really nice house. It’s spacious with good airflow and scenic, peaceful surrounding. It can really be heaven; but the heart of the four siblings who own it is burning, and restless as they keep backstabbing each other to get the more share of their parents’ inheritance. Heaven?

My heaven is simple. Whatever you do unto the least of My brethern, you do unto Me.

I don’t have to lose a limb for it, I don’t have to kill anyone. I only need to sit on the curbs, or on wet grass of a dark park, lit with only few pairs of glistening eyes and dancing tail.

The small rushing steps who tried to catch up to me as I walk along the pedestrian way, the laughters and greetings of the gamers community who, by now, know me as the cat lady from the east (side of Bandung), the group of online riders who, by now, know where I am going and won’t mind if one or two little cats come running to catch up with the pouches they all waiting for.

And if it so happened that they haven’t got their proper food after fast breaking at that 9 pm, we can always sit back on the curb for a cup of tea and a pack of rice.

I got to the SOHO complex with 10 kgs (20 lbs) of chicken, various vegetables,and a dozen of milk carton at 10 pm.

I know she will be there. Sleeping at the bottom of a stairway near the convenience store, or lounging on a flipped table of closed food stalls at the opposite direction.

That night she was under the cart, trying to ward off the brown tabby who for years share the kingship with my golden boy. I saw the males come to the area yesterday, when I picked up the little girl, so I know I should be in a hurry or there will be kittens running around getting crushed by car.

How happy she was to meet me. I give the brown tabby his pouches and she ran straight to my arm.

It all changed when I tried to get her to my backpack carrier, but she would rather have stayed there when the brown tabby guy and two others came back, and we both ran off.

I got home at 11 pm.

The cats were totally pissed that they got the dinner late, and they show their anger by peeing and pooing everywhere, including in their food bowls.

Never mind, now I have reason to make them wait even longer as I wash those bowls. I know they will never learn, so I won’t bother getting myself grumpy and spend the only food I got that day down the sink.

I slept at 3 am. It will be sahur (last meal before start fasting for the day) at about that time, so I have to wait until all these mosques blared their speaker trying to wake people up before sunrise.

Oh, and Hanshin fought at the corner of the block at dawn.

Passed out at 6 am on Saturday, and jump out of the bed 8 am. It’s tuna day!

Usually it only takes me about 30 minutes, but during ramadhan I won’t reach that place before 9 am and people are shopping like crazy, so…

I still have to wait on a loooooong and chatty line of missus telling the guy whatever they want with their tuna, get my order, slip here and there between people with bulks and bulks of groceries (seriously, I don’t understand, how come people finish all those groceries in one day? They fast but they still eat three times a day, just on different time than usual, so why everyone suddenly eat like three times their usual portion?)

Never mind. I get myself a rider, load my tuna, and tell him to go home. I am still a bit sleepy and have tons of chores that I supposed to finish yesterday, and I haven’t posted!

Gosh, I forgot to pay the phone bill that I thought I would do through the apps yesterday.

I got home, pay the rider, grabbed my cellphone and start typing.

But the name listed under that ID is not mine. I checked again and was sure I entered all the numbers right, but the name is still not mine. I log out and login again and do it one more time. It’s still that guy’s name (whoever it is) and this bill is sky high.

OK. I hid tuna in the cooker, ran back out, waved a rider, and went to the phone company because it’s Saturday, it’s 11:30 and they closed at noon.

When we got to the parking lot, I rushed in, pushed my hand into my bag and….

I forgot my phone.

Oh well.

I went to the cashier, tell her my customer ID, and let her check.

Miss Josie?

Yes, that’s me. You sure it’s my name right? Not Wimpy someone whose bill is IDR 780K?

Yes, it’s your name. Josie, right? Your bill is IDR 250K.

Oh, God, yes.

I paid, ran back out, and straight back home.

I stepped into my house at 2 pm.

The cats were totally pissed that they got their tuna late, and they show their anger by peeing and pooing everywhere, including in their food bowls.

Never mind, now I have reason to make them wait even longer as I wash those bowls. I know they will never learn, so I won’t bother getting myself grumpy because I haven’t eat, although the cats won’t care.

Get the tuna served, wash the laundry, clean the house, and ran back out for the colony at 6:30 when everyone elbows and shoves each other in the restaurant, and have the road all for myself.

Got back home at 10 pm.

I haven’t posted, but I am dead tired.

Two friends checked with me and told me I should rest because I won’t produce anything half sleeping.

So I sleep, and wake up at 8 am on Sunday.

Yeah, right.

I ran out of the room before it’s deja vu season 3 because cats will be mad even when their food is five minutes late and I am not sure if the fix cap of my meat grinder would unscrew. Somehow it got stuck on Friday, so I have been pulling off all the trick I can get everywhere but it won’t open. Whatever bits of meat and vegs left in that tube start rotting by this time and I reeeeeealy not into buying new USD 400 meat grinder.

I had soaked it in hot water the night before, so I hope a little super power just out of bed will do the magic.

I put on my rubber gloves so it won’t be slippery, and when I still can’t unscrew it, I tap it lightly with a rubber hammer.

It unscrewed, but when I lift it back to the sink praising the Lord, it broke in two.

[insert swearword here]

OK Josie, take a deep breath. At least you only need to buy USD 33 fix cap and not the entire USD 400 meat grinder.

I had to buy it online though, and it’s Sunday so it will take few days.

It means, I have to run back out of the house to buy minced meat, and whatever, ran home, cook it and get it served before my house blow up.

The traffic is mad, the heat is mad, the queue is mad, and of course the cats are mad.

Yeah, we’re all mad here.

Reach home with pounds of minced meat at 3 pm, cats had their food at 5 pm (of course they pee and poo in their food bowl, they are Gods and Gods don’t wait. So what about they pull out their food out of magic? They are Gods right?)

Never mind. Food served, order placed, stock enough for two days.

By then, I need to go to the colony, and after that I need to haul all the garbage out because Monday is garbage day.

I throw myself down on the bed near midnight and realize the fundraising must be in a mess and I was nowhere near the crowd through the weekend.

But there was this little tapping on the back of my head, and then, on the back of my hand.

I turned around and saw the little crushed boy. He sat by my hand and look at me with his little, round, beady eyes.

“Hi there sweety, you want your chew?” He is teething.

Instead he rolls around on my cheek and play with his tail. It’s his favorite thing. He loves to find little nooks and crannies and he loves to snuggle. He can jump and he can climb now. He runs around the house like bouncing pinball and he made everyone lick him at least twice.

At least all ends well with him.

~ Josie



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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