Two stray cats had a tug of war, as a small family enjoys their KFC and the dad drops all the bone off their dining table; yet she watched silently across the walkway.
Although it was damp, cold and windy in the drizzle, she just sat there on the planter, fanned by the waving mini palm tree.
She looked so tired, so weak, so filthy; her belly was too big for her skinny body.
She didn’t move when I petted her, she didn’t meow when I scratched her chin, she didn’t struggle when I cradled her in my arm. She didn’t eat when we offered her some food, and an apology that we wouldn’t be taking her home.
Two steps away, I change my mind, wrapped her in my jacket, and rode her all the way home, under drizzle that turn to a shower.
I cannot save them all, but I can give a place for an FIP cat to live the remaining of her life in peace, and pass over in a home, among friends and family.
Everyone who looked at her told us how sorry they were that we had a kitty with FIP, even though we didn’t say anything, but the vet who examined her, knitted her eyebrows, and instead of a blood test, ordered a USG.
Our little girl does not have FIP, she has babies.
And so come the “to be or not to be” question.
She was severely malnourished, she was sick; she was weak, and she was desperate. We were told the USG showed four kittens, and that she will probably deliver within one or two weeks. It’s too late for us to bump up her condition.
But even if we cannot save them all, we can try to save one more.
She delivered three days late, on Sunday afternoon; in pain and growing difficulties. It was the first time I saw her lost her grace and composure; it was the first time I heard her cry.
If I can take all her pain, I would. If I can transfer all my strength, I will. Alas I can only help her clean her babies. I can only help her keep them warm while she struggled between life and death to deliver another. I can only cheer her up, I can only provide her warm food and kitty milk.
In a place where mercy had died, she has to fight alone for six babies and herself. In a place where life of an animal does not matter she crept in silence, one day after another; gambling each and every breath against death and suffering.
She cannot scream, she cannot curse, she cannot complain.
She cannot give up. She did not give up, she has not given up.
And so do I.
While the nameless mother and her babies are safe at the time being, the young mother still has a long way to catch up to her undernourishment as well as nursing her babies properly. We provide her all the best we could, and she is one of the reason we are asking for your help to raise more this week. It takes only one Dollar to feed one cat per day. Alone we cannot save them all, but together we can try to save one more.