After that single flash into the dark sky, came that small sparkle, the only one in the vast milky way.

And then, silence.

I stood up and turn my back; the party is over.

There are many that I have lost; gone with the past year that sank with the moon behind me. What is left of them are memories: the guilt because despite our very best efforts, and the support of all that stood beside us, we lost them regardless. If any comfort, there is that sip of gladness that, long or short, we are doing our utmost to give them the chance that is their birth-right, but has been denied them for many ridiculous excuses.

And there is still hope; like Mama Marilyn (see her picture to find out where her name came from). On nights like this she would have been alone in that empty parking lot inside the SOHO complex. Sometimes with the rain, many times with the wind, often just her and the silence of the night.

Just across the street from where she lays to raise her children, stands a veterinary clinic; but her babies, born as she struggle with even keeping herself alive, looked like goblins.

Their bodies were eaten by fungus and parasites. Their fur all gone, their skin hardened, and their muscles ache. They walked like string puppets.

They have many illnesses, as their mother cannot provide adequate protection through her thinning milk; but inside, they are the same.

They play, they chase, they roll. If they saw us alone, they’d climb our leg with their matchstick-sized bald legs, just so we took notice, lift them up, and put them on our chests.

If we gave them a slow dance, they’d fall asleep and purred.

How we would give anything for time long enough until all their medication took effect and let them feel better.

How we would do everything to make them who they should be: handsome, healthy, fluffy, chubby…

But what they should be turned out to be little angels in heaven.

And their mother who stays to tell their stories about little warriors, who wanders but not lost.


I saw those two round eyes, looking straight at me; her tail bent gently back and forth, left and right.

When she finishes her treatments at the end of this month, Marilyn will be walking through the threshold of a new chapter in her life.

A new chapter that start with her spay, and then is filled with a story of a cat who took her chances, and lives again.

This time, as she should be.

~ Josie

Published by

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

Leave a Reply