When one man passed she would call, hidden by the bushes, on the road side near the sewer. She has no mother and she has no brother.
When one man passed she would call, hidden by the bushes; her colour made a perfect cloak that guarded her against evil men. Let only her voice seek assurance, that the one who comes, is the one who loves.
When another man passes, she would call, hidden by the bushes; but for many more before, another man passes. Even when they look around, they will come back to their own course; their life must carry on.
When yet another man passed, she would call, hidden by the bushes, on the road side near the sewer. She is tired and she is hungry, she has no mother and she is thirsty. How does she go near the water, though? The sewer is so deep; if she goes inside, she will never get out. The sewer is so wide; if she jumped anyway she would fall, and she will never climb out. If she managed to jump anyway, the road is so mean, the wheels terrifying, all the noises are scary.
When a man passed, she would call, hidden by the bushes, on the roadside near the sewer. The day has been long, her cry is forlorn.
When a man passed, she would call; hidden by the bushes, on the roadside near the sewer. Would she call through the night? would there will be another one on sight?
Then a man passed, and she called; hidden by the bushes, on the roadside near the sewer.
“Where are you, little baby?” carefully she put her helmet on the side; her sling bag swept to her back. Not so far behind, another one with those scary wheels came by.
Should she cry, should she stay?
When the human was about to pass, she called; hidden by the bushes, on the roadside near the sewer.
The other human swiped a bright light from her motor, and blind her enough to stop. When she opened her eyes once more, the other human jumped across that wide, deep sewer, and knelt with her hand open, right in front of her.
“I am here, would you come?”
She put one paw on one hand, and it was cold; as cold as that windy day, when a man pass and she would call.
The human put her on her chest, and it was cold, but she put her inside her jacket, and it was warm.
She can hear her heart beat, she can feel her skin, she can see her moving, fast, but steady, she can hide from the breeze and just enjoy the ride.
When a human passed, she would call, hidden behind the wheel, under the table, by the freezer, in a box, under the blanket. At least one of the two would stop by and play peek a boo. She would just sit by them, and there will be food on a plate very soon.
Then a cat passed and she would call, hidden behind the wall, by the cupboard, near the shelves. Sometimes they just look at her, some other would come, put one paw on her head, and some other lick her face, clean her weary limbs, and let her join their litter.
When a human passed, she would call. No longer hidden. There is always food no matter how meagre. There is always a caress, loving and tender.
When a human pass, she would call. Perhaps to ask, why would they answer the call?
“Come here, you little weary mite” one said, and the other “Are you not loved, that you would cry? There are no more days of scorching sun or freezing night. No more days of windy morning, no more rainy afternoon”.
“Your house is so full” said yet another, “Should you really take another?”
“For the love we got from our Father”, said the one who picked her.
When a human pass, she would call. She is home. She has it all.
Christmas in Indonesian is “Natal” (from Latin) so we call the little one Natalie. She is ten weeks old, and she just learned how to eat. She is tiny, and she is underweight, yet her will is strong, and unwavering. Help us help Natalie survive. Together we can put her life back in front of her.