Since the start of the lockdown, restrictions, social distancing, whatever the name, us having dinner at 2 am the next day is the new normal. End our day on the 27th hour at 4 am and restart at 7 am is the new normal.

Masks and gloves help, glasses as well. They hide our pale complexions, coarse skin, and red eyes. They muffled our croaky voice, and a little bit of an effort to sound a little bit more cheerful distracts the beholder and make the smile of the listener.

On June 6, some sort of miracle. Despite the seemingly never ending day we somehow finished an hour early, went to our regular, hidden food stall to have a piece of meal, and a peace of mind as we enjoy our 6 hours late dinner, and whistle home. We wouldn’t ask for more. We know the whole world is in pain now and most of all we know full well the animals bear the worse brunt. We only have two hands, but when everyone worried about their own tummies, we can share, because it’s all we have.

Whistling home on ‘Someone To Watch Over Me’ won’t distract us from dead roads and dark streets. Actually it lead us to two tiny shadows dancing around as if the background of our performance.

Actually it’s one. One two months old black kitten that will never distract anyone dancing by a small waterway toward the sewer. Next to him sat another, watching.

It’s not that she didn’t want to play, I think; but with mange all over her tiny self and fungus and yeast no less than any other, empty tummy and no mother, There’s a somebody she is longin’ to see, hoping that someone turns out to be someone who’ll watch over her.

Her black little sibling ran away as I stepped down from the motorbike and walked over, but she stayed there, looking straight into my eyes, with that pair of eyes full of melancholy.

When I extended my hand she took it carefully. His black sibling came back, and they both rode with us.

Only two ounces in weight, we couldn’t bathe her though we had goosebumps running through our spine touching her bumpy skin. We couldn’t give her spot on treatment, it can only be used once she is four pounds in weight or four months in age. Our best bet is flea spray. At least one or two parasite gone.

The rest is good food, in the hope she will found the will and build the strength to fight the legion of her demons.

The rest is her, voice inaudible, sitting as close as possible to our foot whenever we had chance to stand still. The rest is her looking at us with her tiny, round, yellow face.

She is like a mini sunflower trying to bloom in the winter, she is like a dainty daisy bracing the wind of the autumn, she is like a budding hope waiting for the summer.

But what if, summer never come? Declining donations force us to degrade from pure wet food to rice and fish, or less than best food we usually give.

But what if we keep going? If we cannot run, we walk, if we cannot walk we crawl; on our hands and knees, or on our tummy.

Just like little Hana (little flower) waiting in her box until we fell silent in our short lived sleep, and creep up to the bed.

When we wake up we will find her curling in peace by our cheek.

Someone to watch over me.

~ Josie

Post Script:
“Someone to Watch Over Me” is a 1926 song composed by George Gershwin with lyrics by Ira Gershwin. It was written for singer Gertrude Lawrence in the musical Oh, Kay! (1926). Originally, “Someone to Watch Over Me” was an up-tempo swing, but while experimenting one day, George Gershwin played the song as a ballad, and it stuck ever since.

The song was recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1946 for his first album The Voice Of Frank Sinatra, and again by him in 1954 for the film “Young At Heart” (that inspired us to whistle on our way home the day we met Hana)


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