She is the oldest, sickliest, most vulnerable, yet the most elusive. I mean, one minute she was by my side, I turned around for a little bit for another cat, and the next minute, she was not there.
So when the supermarket finally closed permanently on July 21st, she was among a few I haven’t been able to trap, spay and relocate.
If God ever listened to prayers, though, a neighbor gave me a flyer that said the campus next to the supermarket would be turned into a vaccine center starting July 23rd.
So there will be people; when there are people, there will be food. When there is food, there is life. I was not fond of the idea, but Covid, one weird way or another, is buying me some time.
I come there still, at noon when even my shadow is afraid of me. I bring the best tasting food I can afford. I bring cooled water to quench the scorching heat that marks the beginning of summer.
Then one of those days, I asked her if she would go to a better place. A quiet park with large trees and grass to roll around. Birds chirping in the morning, gentle wind, maybe some friends.
She looked at me for a second and went back to eating.
Eventually, she entered my backpack and let me transport her to the nearest clinic. After one week, she traveled one more time, to her new paradise.
Slowly, she is getting better. No mites, no fleas, no worms. She gains weight, and her eyes glimmer with many stories.
I’ve watched her playing hide and seek with her imaginary friend. I have watched her climbing trees, something she would never have been be able to do in her old place. I have seen her enjoy the cool breeze on the lush green grass instead of the previous scorching hot pavement.
She is still that same old ninja grandma, but she is no longer a beggar. She is the master of her own life, in full control of her own fate. In a home where she truly belongs.
~ Josie T Liem
Thank you. Without your support this old grandma wouldn’t have found a new home to enjoy proper retirement.
If you think I am doing a good work, please help me keep it up.