The darkness was dying; the silence will soon break. It’s time to go and see the colonies. But this head, these arms, these legs, these eyes, this spine, this whole body, will not move. For two weeks, I have gradually lost the use of my arms, then my finger, my body soon after. I felt numb in one part, then the other. Tonight, I can no longer type on my cellphone. I can no longer hold anything without trembling like an old pop with Parkisons.
It’s just me. The pressure to produce enough to keep the shelter alive. Cases after cases of ill cats who need urgent and immediate veterinary intervention. The society that won’t back down, and constant peer harassment for being different. At this time of great need, a pledge is spoken but not done; twice by the same person.
Internet is not working, and when the internet eventually works, the computer crashed. Loans due, bills need to be paid.
People provoke me until they bring out my ugly sides, then play the victim when I went there. My friend in Messenger: There is an order! Can you make this and that? Send me photos of this thing! You have to react to a customer, or they can file a complaint! These people are our first customers, so let’s make a good start!
I know you are overworked, BUT this and that and whatever.
When I did not answer (I can’t!) Sheilla had the messages. Please tell Josie to go online! Please tell Josie to answer the message! Don’t tell her, gently ask her! I know she is tired BUT, she has to do this and that and this and that.
We had a nasty row about a friend of mine terrorizing her into telling me to go back to work, and it sparks the fire that blown the time bomb of pent-up anger inside us. Then, we decided that we will no longer be together.
Then another message from a stranger. A young man from a family of good financial standing told us that he took a kitten with intestinal prolapse in front of his house. His mother took the kitten to the vet, and the vet gave her some medicated water to spray on her raw intestines with a promise that the intestine will retract by itself. When the intestine would not go back as promised, they knew they’d better look for someone who knows what to do.
Sheilla and I went to pick up the girl, our last project as a team. The guy showed us to the pen where her mother kept the kitten, but it was him who annoyed us. She has gold all over. She has the best manicure. She has salon hair. She looked at us as if we were garbage, she closed her mouth and pinched her nose looking at the kitten, and when I walked over to take the kitten, she whispered to her brother, but loud enough for me to hear. “Won’t you wear your mask? Low lives like them bring nothing but diseases. They must have smelled so bad, and she might give you Covid!”
And then “Don’t offer them money! They will rob you but won’t care for the cats! Let them do it by themselves!”
For a prickly bitch like her, I had the perfect answer, guaranteed to make her cry, but the kitten endured the pain for so long already; I didn’t want her to suffer any longer. I took her, put her in our bag, and went off.
The brother contacted us several times afterward to offer financial assistance in exchange for photo evidence. I gave him pictures but never accepted his money.
For her, I will use my hand again. For her, I will not wait. For her, even if I have to crawl, I will drag myself. For her, I will make myself type again. I will stand again; I will work again. For her, I will fight again.