It’s the end of the holiday for us; it’s the end of life for her. We didn’t have anything left, she has never had anything to begin with.
The woman just two steps away pretended she didn’t see her, tightening her legs that pins her travelling bag in between.
The mother a wee bit further, sent her off silently with a sweep of her newly bought shoes, mandatory every Eid Al Fitr.
She had used the remaining of her life force to came up to that mother, begging for food she failed to secure in this then dormant town, but alas.
So she stretched just a little bit longer, walking toward that woman, but she doubted, and she doubted for a very good reason. Instead, she sat at the edge of that once crowded pedestrian way, just across the bus terminal.
I asked to pull over. I had a white jacket. I wrapped her dirty, skinny, mangy existence inside, and stand back straight, holding her on my chest.
What horror it must be for the two women, that their eyeball seemed to pop out of their sockets; or was it disgust? All of a sudden there are a lot of aristocratic and royals in this town; with all their chins up in the sky.
Two weeks of a good home, warm homemade food, supplements, parasiticide; she was still sitting there, on the top of a shelf we put by the window, looking at life gone by outside.
We have incurred many debts we need to pay before service can be rendered right back, but I made that call, and do what she did if it is to keep her survive: beg.
She has virus in her liver, though the lack of available technology cannot tell us what kind. She has parasites in her blood. One day after the other, her pale pink skin turned yellow. Her urine is thick, and it’s orange instead of clear.
One morning I stood by her, looking out of the window, watching life gone by, just like her.
How many roads has she walk through, with nothing but hope? How many shoes and shovel has she endured, with nothing but unheard prayers? How many more of those she has to endure?
If she would stretch a little bit more after that futile last life force, couldn’t I stretch a little bit more? I remembered I told my friend: we will bent a bit further and stretch a little bit thinner. We don’t know when and how we will break, we only know to try our best one more time.
Help came from far, far away; from those we least expected but it’s help none the less. Her two weeks prognosis have now long passed, and Maki is alive.
She still have jaundice; her urine is still thick and orange, but she looks out of the window watching life gone by, knowing that she is home; knowing that she is with family, knowing that she is safe.
Maki needs long term medication to reverse her damaged liver. So far we can only secure half of her required treatment. The rest of the way, is dark and uncertain.
But just like her days behind, she passed through many roads with hope. She endures many rejections with hope, she stretched a little bit further with hope.
Hope that the dark will turn around and light will enter the remaining of her life. Hope that she will find healing.
Hope that no matter how short the days that left, she found love.
And be a cat she should be, the cat she deserves to be.