For a while, we were no longer the only cat rescue in Bandung. There was another rescue group that aggressively promoted themselves over social media; but due to what appeared to me as poor management by the shareholders, they closed, and the remaining cats were distributed among shareholders and volunteers.
Last night one of my downtown clinic vets brought to my attention the plight of this cat. His name is Ditto. He is one of those “leftover” from the closed rescue; he was placed in the care of one of the rescue group’s volunteers. He has a tumor on his left front leg and it’s getting out of control. My vet was probing to find out if we can take him in, considering how we brought Bumpy back from the brink of extinction (it’s really is Bumpy, we all just help).
Knowing how the former rescue group handled their cats (the reason I don’t want to have anything to do with them) I know it won’t end well.
Basically, the volunteer won’t do anything beyond keeping him in a bird cage and give him food and water. She won’t spend money for medication, unless someone else provides it for her. When I picked him up, Ditto had a salad bowl as his litter box, filled with non absorbent litter sand, and when I asked what she has been feeding him, she proudly said “tempeh”
Tempeh is a traditional food native to Indonesia made from fermented soybean. Nothing more, maybe less.
When Ditto arrived home, the first thing he did was raid our fridge, literally. We took him out of the carrier, I opened the fridge for some cold water, and he was already on the shelves, trying to drag some chicken. He got one full plate of minced chicken, he finished the kitten’s milk and egg, and just before the dawn broke, I saw him munching on the kitten’s dry food.
He is what I thought should be over 8 months old, but an 8 months old cat does not weigh only 8 ounces.
After he eats so much? He plays. You read it right; he plays. He lets other kittens chase his fur-less tail; he lets other chase him and he chased them back (with difficulties, but well…)
If all these self-called “rescuers” think he cannot be saved, we will save him. If all these self-labelling “humane people” want to get rid of him, we will take him.
The largest picture was from his former place. The tall picture next to that was taken after he finished that big plate of minced chicken on our dining table. The picture in the basket is of him with dripping milk all over his chin.
Go on, tell us, tell us: The Whiskers’ Syndicate, he’s not worth it. Whoever dared to say that has no idea.
Ditto waited forever for his life. He wants only one last chance, his last chance is us, and we are The Whiskers’ Syndicate.
On Monday we will see the TCM practitioner who have been helping us with Bumpy and procure some medicine. We hope this will be the beginning of Ditto’s long awaited life.
Can we do our magic one more time for Ditto?