BUT THEN, MOST OF ALL

… animals.

I’d go far for them, far and beyond.

There were incompetent and impotent workers who think sweet-talking a woman would persuade her away from demanding a decent quality of work, and accept the current (regional) standard that women know nothing, and therefore should do/hear/see/say/think nothing.

There were sellers who thinks there is no way a woman can see a difference between one type of wood and the other, and try to charge the price of good wood, for rotting lumber.

There were delays, and tiring back and forth, and arguments, and endless glares, and threats, and lots and lots and lots of money wasted on cellphone balance, just because no one else understands that, at least for me, animals are as precious as, if not more, than fellow humans.

Especially humans who think animals deserve nothing of all the best quality I demanded (and pay accordingly) and therefore add to all the brain sore and salt to the injury they try to inflict me.

There were also people who take my money as I showed them, and follow my requirements in knowledge that I am always true to my words, regardless of whom I given their end product. Their work is not perfect (see all those smearing paint? holes in that brand new fiberglass because they first install it upside down?), but it’s acceptable considering regional skill level.

That’s at least more professional. Why does one care, whom I give the items I bought from them, fair and square? Why does one feel offended, that their workmanship is to be used for animals, and more so, unfortunate animals?

But then, most of all…

Why do I care about them at all, while they don’t give a damn about me?

It cost me more because I have to hire a middleman, a supervisor (instead of me doing it myself), but if it gets the work done and keep the cats safe, let’s do it.

And here is the extension of our laundry room. It’s made of (middle up) quality wood instead of high quality iron, but the cats can’t climb them. It has fiberglass roof instead of glass, but cats can’t climb them. It’s still dark and plain and empty, but as soon as I get the money, I will install light and cat toys and hammocks and…

Of course, for the cats.

At the same time we also fix our studio window, from which some of the cats can slip in and jump out to the front yard (and be gone).

Then, if the cats can’t climb them, they won’t end up on our cat hating neighbor’s roof who betray the cat’s trust, sack them and dump them in the worst of places.

They won’t end up on the street in front of our house, or playing in our front yard (yes, INSIDE and OUR front yard) and offend some young thug who lives across the street (see that “Ceper Cell” thing?) and love to throw hot water on passing cats (owned or stray) and dump his dirty water on the road right by our fence. Like Sierra who always sits silently right under our gate waiting for us to arrive home, or Kaka who rolls and frolics next to our catnip IN our yard, or Rufus, who turn back his 15 years of age far enough to climb the roof, go to the front yard via the community garden, only to be sacked and dumped in the SOHO complex (I found him and kidnap him right back home, and even chat face to face with the lady in big grin who said she saw him around the corner, snatch him and throw him into her car baggage and release him in the complex).

But then, most of all…

Whether the cats like it or not (like there is any cat who likes to be told what to do?), the cats stay inside.

But then, most of all…

We are The Whiskers’ Syndicate. We safe lives today, and worry about changing the world tomorrow.

We are The Whiskers’ Syndicate; we are the first, and by far, the only cat sanctuary in this town by the hillside, in which 99% of its residents (including vets) are backyard breeders, or poachers, and the remaining can care less about them.

We are the Whiskers’ Syndicate, who dried ourselves up to the last penny and risk hunger if it keeps the cats alive and safe, and at the same time responded to pleas of help of animals who needs our love under the rubble of earthquake and wet out of tsunami.

Some do ask us why we go head over heels and back again for animals, while there are so many humans suffer.

Like… hey, everywhere we look everybody is plastering their fundraising account numbers to help those humans affected in Lombok and Sulawesi.

But then, most of all…

Because we are The Whiskers’ Syndicate. We heard the voices of those nobody cared to hear. We lend our hand to those nobody cared to touch, we love those nobody cared to love.

We are the Whiskers’ Syndicate; and we do unto the least of our God’s brethren (whichever God it is or no God at all), the way we do unto these Gods (or no God at all).

The most important,

Because every life matters, even if it’s not so for everyone else.

~ 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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