When we least expect it, a request for help; and the sender was quite bold with it. She briefly introduced her name, and went ahead with her request for funds for a stray kitten around her house that she fed in turn with her neighbour.
The easiest part? Say no. No kidding. We have 160 cats, diminishing resources, and we keep sliding deeper into recession that we barely have enough to eat for everyone, let alone ourselves.
The hardest part was beating our heart up for doing nothing. The guilt that will haunt us day and night, for days, for weeks, and even though one day we manage to get by, at some quiet night when we lay ready to sleep, we will remember her, and many others that we were unable to save.
We can at least give it a try; we can at least ride over there, even though it’s halfway across town into a labyrinth of new clusters of civilization on a large swathe of what used to be rice fields, forests, and swamps.
All she needs is a chance.
It was dark when we finally took her. It was late at night when we watched her with caution, going around sniffing and peeking. It was a wee hour of the morning when we finally saw her sitting on top of the shelves, cuddling with other kittens for a peace of mind, and a piece of warmth.
She looked at us with one eye, and the other halfway dangling at the edge of its socket. That eye had turned bad, and blackened, and bad blood dripped everywhere she goes.
There is no way around it. Either we put that eye away, or give her life away.
Early in the morning, we squeezed her into our tightly packed schedule, and get her to our vets.
It was tricky. She is malnourished, she has parasites, and both means her body might not be strong enough to withstand a surgery.
So here is our choice: we sign a waiver for a surgery and have 50% chance of life, or we take her back home and bid our luck one bit too far and wait until she is healthy enough for the procedure, in the hope that meanwhile, she wouldn’t catch any illnesses, or her bad eye won’t pop out, or she wouldn’t have infection, or fate do not lose patience and took matters on its own hand.
We signed the waiver.
Six hours later she rode back with us, one eye removed. We rode back with her, with a new debt on our back that we should clear before we can be rendered further service.
Eight hours later she drinks by herself. She cuddled with others, she scaled our room separator, she swatted whoever had a nerve sniffing her around. Ten hours later she eats, went to the litter box, climbed the table, and had the nerve screaming at us for more kibbles in the bowl.
All she needs is a chance.
Help me secure that chance: paypal.me/whiskerssyndicate