At long last, she can lay herself to rest. Curling to fit that small box on the shelf, so she can share the tiny space with her four children.

How long has it been, since she last caught her breath? How long has it been, since she last was able to sit? Lower her ear, though not her guard. Feeling the creeping pain, flex the stiff muscles, slowly drifting away from the darkness and terror that have been haunting their lives.

She knows there is no place for her on the earth she is now walking, so she tries to be invisible. She walks leaning on the wall, under the bushes, away from sight. She goes out when no one is around, she took just a little corner to raise a family, just little souvenirs that as invisible as she might be, her life exists. They will be gone once her babies can live on their own.

Even that one wish is too much. Those who owns the place want her gone, whatever the way. But where else would she go? There are little trees where she can hide, no corner with shadow to stay out of sight. There is a sleepless four lane street that cuts her away from the other side, and the only manger she can find is a corner in a storage no one should ever want. She found that corner, but on that earth she is walking upon, finder is not keeper.

Only a few good men, bring her food and water. Only a few good men try to keep her ground, but they are only a few good men, working for one bad man.

She knows her days were numbered, she knows her little dreams will be gone, she knows she came to the wrong world.

Sooner or later, doesn’t matter.

She didn’t struggle when one of those few good men put her in a small, dark bag. She didn’t fight when she was taken away. She didn’t know where she would find her end.

She just knew, this was the end.

At the end of the tunnel when the bag reopened, was a bright light and voices she recognizes. Voices just like hers, voices just like her children. Voices the likes of the few good men and the bad ones.

It’s quite different from her imagination, perhaps, but when she peeked out, just to be sure, there was indeed those like her, peeking back. There was indeed kittens like her own, running around chasing each other. There was indeed people, though whether those are the good, or the bad was a good question.

There was different kind of food. There was different, fresher water. There is that fluffy, soft pillow where two women set just for her and her four babies; but she chose a small wooden box, which though tight, is dark and sturdy.

It was her babies that she lost control of. Once they found out that the running babies were friendly, they all jumped down and join the game. Once they saw that jar where kibbles flow freely, the smell of water clean, cool and fresh, they all ran down to feast on the offering.

It seems like the same earth, but it’s also different. It seems like the same world, but it’s also different.

She never sees those few good men anymore, she never hears their voices anymore. We neither. Those few good men, the employees of a businessman who wanted them gone, scrambled to find shelter because they couldn’t bear throwing the cats off somewhere. They found us, because we are the only hope, and they promised support, but words travel far, and deeds stay where they were.

Like my evil twin said: at least the cats are safe.

There is little food, sometimes less than she thought it should be. There is little space, often she has to share her fluffy towel.

But still, at least she lives, at least she exists, and there will be four little souvenirs to the world, to remind her that long journey must be made for this world to change, so that others who share her fate would share her luck, and join her in victory.

For now, at least she is home.

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

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