My heart is still raw. Though it’s been a month and a bit more, that tiny blue shirt that I have kept so close in the drawer by my bed still have my tears.
The day I decided to take Ditto home was also Friday. The day I looked at his picture: his decrepit, bald body; his squinted eye holding pain, that large bump under his armpit, his crouching figure, the rage in my heart as I learned how the “rescue” who accepted donations on his behalf and was supposed to care for him never gave him medication for his tumor, kept him in bird cage, and fed him fermented soybean.
The day I lost Ditto was the next Friday. The next Friday after one week of betterment, good food, warm home, and abundant love, The next Friday after medication that removed Ditto’s pain, after support therapy that saw him gaining weight. The next Friday after five other days of playing games and making friends with the rest of the shelter.
That Friday I learned that despite my plea and all the best efforts by small number of The Whiskers’ Syndicate‘s champions, we were still unable to secure enough fund to rid him of his tumor.
Hence, the decision to rid him off the life he just begun to enjoy, to rid him the hope he just begun to know, to rid him the love he so deserve.
Many told me it’s not my fault. It’s just circumstances. I believe them, but my heart is still bleeding. Many told me that it must be the best for Ditto; I believe them, but my tears is still falling.
All Ditto ask for is a chance, and I promised him he has friends all over the world ready to grant him his wish, but I failed to fulfill it.
Many also told me that regret won’t bring Ditto back alive, and that I should direct my grief and sorrow into preventing such failure to ever happened again
But it seems like it is going to happen again, and this time, it is not only to one cat, but ninety and many more.
It seems like I am going to fail one more time, and see Bumpy, who keeps on fighting his cancer (and is winning), see Thelma who keeps on living with just three legs, see Wei Ling and the world in front of her.
It seems like as I am failing to do my best on the matching challenge, I will have to see baby Emmy who just begun her life, comes back to ashes and dust.
There is desperation and there is frustration, when all the good intention and the kindest will does not resonate with the world.
But that we only have little more to match, there is hope that help is still near, and that the chance these abused, neglected cats deserve is still within reach.
So I am knocking at the heaven’s door that is in your heart, cap in hand, with memories of all who we lost, and the plea of all who still living, that the mobsters of Whiskers’ Syndicate and their friends in the colonies can still believe in our humanity.