Rescued kittens needing help

It was a very long day and the thought of warm tea and coffee (or some soup, perhaps) kept us up on our way home after caring for the colony.

Confused, terrified, cold and damp, these two kittens were peeking out from behind a large basket full of garbage. They went back and forth several times, but unable to find their way, went back and hid behind the basket.

As I walked closer, both ran to me crying and screaming. So desperately, they don’t care that I am a stranger. There was no mother around, An empty sack nearby and their behavior around humans suggested that they once belong to someone before being dumped into the market to fend for their own life.

Obviously, they both came home with us.

Although they both look healthy, both have bloody stool and diarrhoea. Our vets suspected protozoa infection. While the infection is mild, it can be fatal if left untreated for too long.

Our sanctuary’s page has been blocked by Facebook because we are “growing too fast”, effectively cutting our access to the help we need in giving these kittens their chance in life.

These babies are just 3 months old. They should have had their life in front of them; instead they are robbed of their future.

Please help me give the lives that had been stolen from them back. Please join me in giving them a kind treat after the trick and treason their previous “owner” shown them.

Please don’t let life pass them by; share their story, and help me get the help they need.

~ Josie

A mother cat in serious trouble

We took this cat off the street because she was overwhelmed with fleas and ticks. So much so that her fur turned brown by dried blood. She was severely anaemic and underweight.
After two rounds of warm bath, that turned the water black, we tended to her skin sore and give her flea treatment, hoping that we still have enough time to hold on to her life.
This morning we were shocked to see that what we thought was bloody faeces turned out to be a fetus. Following vet examination, we know that she has four babies, all died; one came out, but three still inside.
Our vet cannot perform surgery due to her weakened state, so we are trying to get her to abort her babies normally.
This young, unfortunate mother is currently receiving intensive care.
We are requesting your prayers and support, morally and especially financially as this young mother fights for her life. We cannot help her babies, but we can help her reclaim her threatened life.
Please join her fight. She has no one else but us.

~ Josie



Winnie was abandoned in the pet park. He was young, he was innocent, and so he lost the hunger games against all the veteran strays.

It was five months ago. He was only skin and bone, cowering under the stove of a fritters cart for warmth.
It’s the only way he knows.

We did the rest. We removed all the parasite from his body, we cleaned him and cared for him, we fought alongside him against calici virus, that had made its way with speed destroying his system.

Winnie survived, but the trace of his prolonged infection damaged his nerves. He is wobbly and weak, his head tilted to one side, he walked like a zombie.

We signed him up for a session of acupuncture and physiotherapy, and after two weeks the therapy showed a promising result.

As we walk alongside Winnie to look forward to the day he can walk and run again, we invite you to join us in surrounding him with your prayers and bolster his fight with financial adequacy.

Please help us give Winnie the chance he fought so hard for.


It will take a trilogy, perhaps, telling the story through the matching challenge.

I can end it, however, with just two words and one post.

The two words are THANK YOU.

The post is below:


This is Emmy; as you can see, sleeping with total abandon on Sheilla’s lap. It was the day after the matching challenge.

Together we have doubled USD 500. We spent half of the matched fund into the vet bill, so that we can have service when the need arise, and have just done hauling sacks of cat food we bought with the other half, extending the life of Whiskers’ Syndicate although for only few days.

It’s a bit cloudy just like our lives, but the wind is nice and it’s quiet after the rush hour.

Emmy used her privilege of being stunted and tiny to slip out of the door, as we sat by the porch trying to catch our breaths. We were close to be doomed and it’s especially painful because we’re doomed just $90 away from salvation.

But like Baby Emmy persevere through her unfortunate beginning, and climb through mountainous perils and challenges, we finished the matching challenge together, as one big village, and for four days to be exact, we will live.

If we all count it correctly, that four days ends today.

Tomorrow we will leave her alone, each of us with our jobs and chores, but as I walk out the door for the job that will provide part of our living, I will remember Emmy. The little two months old cat who looks like one month baby. The little cat who always lost the biting games because her peer had grown teeth, she is still eating puree.

I will remember Emmy; a wee girl with enormous will to live.

I hope The Whiskers’ Syndicate whom she believed in will remember her just the same, and stand together one more time to give her a chance four more days.

~ Josie


When he came to join us, Reo was being a sick cat. 
Five months later, Reo is being Reo (watch the video)


In the week after Reo came to join us, she would call, or text, asking how he is doing.
For months then she has been visiting the modern market near her residential complex just to see that super skinny, odd colored cat, who timidly approaches patrons and see if there is something left to eat.

He was always out of breath, so long as she recalled, such condition that robbed him his chance to hunt for scarce food against bajillion of cats dumped mercilessly to fend for themselves in the middle of nowhere.

She had asked her friend to keep the cat she came to name Reo, and her friend was more than capable. Reo moved from the streets of oblivion to a cat in golden cage. Her friend had taken care of Reo so compulsively well, he can only sit there and wait to be fed with silver spoon, literally. He cannot even move one bit without his “mother” worrying to death for his life.

So off she went looking for another place where Reo can actually live as he should be.

Reo has a ruptured diaphragm. He will be short of breath forever and ever, and surgery as suggested by the best surgeon in town will only give him 50% chance of living.

From OCD to Russian Roulette?

I will have space for Reo, but I am mean and I will have Reo own his ruptured diaphragm and short breath as long as he keeps his life.

I will also have him eat good food (raw food or grain free), aside from rows of supplements to bolster his lung, his immune, his muscles, his system.

Every time she texted, I sent her a short video of Reo trotting, hopping, skipping, jumping, running, running in laps, climbing. He is out of breath, but he is not sitting like a statue in a Pyramid somewhere under Egypt.

By the time I made this video, Reo is 4 kgs (8 lbs) of hard, lean muscle (from 1.7 kgs/ 3.5 lbs), lovely soft fur, velvety ears, and luxurious mane.

She hasn’t been texting me for a few months, and I can no longer contact her number.

I would have loved her (and all who support Whiskers’ Syndicate) to see Reo being a cat.



Please bring us hope and life

My heart is still raw. Though it’s been a month and a bit more, that tiny blue shirt that I have kept so close in the drawer by my bed still have my tears.

The day I decided to take Ditto home was also Friday. The day I looked at his picture: his decrepit, bald body; his squinted eye holding pain, that large bump under his armpit, his crouching figure, the rage in my heart as I learned how the “rescue” who accepted donations on his behalf and was supposed to care for him never gave him medication for his tumor, kept him in bird cage, and fed him fermented soybean.

The day I lost Ditto was the next Friday. The next Friday after one week of betterment, good food, warm home, and abundant love, The next Friday after medication that removed Ditto’s pain, after support therapy that saw him gaining weight. The next Friday after five other days of playing games and making friends with the rest of the shelter.

That Friday I learned that despite my plea and all the best efforts by small number of The Whiskers’ Syndicate‘s champions, we were still unable to secure enough fund to rid him of his tumor.

Hence, the decision to rid him off the life he just begun to enjoy, to rid him the hope he just begun to know, to rid him the love he so deserve.

Many told me it’s not my fault. It’s just circumstances. I believe them, but my heart is still bleeding. Many told me that it must be the best for Ditto; I believe them, but my tears is still falling.

All Ditto ask for is a chance, and I promised him he has friends all over the world ready to grant him his wish, but I failed to fulfill it.

Many also told me that regret won’t bring Ditto back alive, and that I should direct my grief and sorrow into preventing such failure to ever happened again

But it seems like it is going to happen again, and this time, it is not only to one cat, but ninety and many more.

It seems like I am going to fail one more time, and see Bumpy, who keeps on fighting his cancer (and is winning), see Thelma who keeps on living with just three legs, see Wei Ling and the world in front of her.

It seems like as I am failing to do my best on the matching challenge, I will have to see baby Emmy who just begun her life, comes back to ashes and dust.

There is desperation and there is frustration, when all the good intention and the kindest will does not resonate with the world.

But that we only have little more to match, there is hope that help is still near, and that the chance these abused, neglected cats deserve is still within reach.

So I am knocking at the heaven’s door that is in your heart, cap in hand, with memories of all who we lost, and the plea of all who still living, that the mobsters of Whiskers’ Syndicate and their friends in the colonies can still believe in our humanity.