Can you help us give this abused kitten a chance?

On my way to work yesterday I passed a small diner and saw this white and yellow kitten crumpling under a motorcycle. Although just a glance, I knew the boy was extremely ill and emaciated. I came back to take him, bring him home and gave him first aid.

As seen in the picture, everybody can count his protruding bones. He is only one ounce in weight; he is emaciated and dehydrated. He was covered in (I assume) motor oil and dirt, so I bathe him with warm water, only to find a large bruise on his rib cage.

Further examination by a vet determined that the bruise was caused by blunt force trauma, most possible (from the shape) is that the baby was kicked with a boot often used by military, The small diner where I found him is less than two minutes walk from a military training facility.

Although he starts to wander around a short distance, his breathing is heavy, as if something is weighing his chest, and therefore he cannot walk too far without collapsing in exhaustion.

Bandung only has one X Ray machine for the whole town and the machine itself is already old.; so We are making an appointment for digital X Ray in the next town to have better and detailed result.

In all my admiration for all your help until today, and with respect to each your situation, I am extending the little boy’s plea in the hope that help is still possible and hope is not yet extinguished.

We cannot guarantee success, considering the baby’s weakened state, but we are currently doing our best and seeking a chance to bring this deserving baby to a path of life.

I hope we find you among those who truly care.

~ Josie


A happy rescue success story

This beautiful boy was rescued on 15 March, 2019; see his original story.

He had been discarded by the roadside in a plastic bag, left for dead, by someone who didn’t care about his suffering.

By the grace and kindness of our supporters, Josie and Sheilla were able to treat and nurture him; he has recovered, and as you can see, there is an immense difference.

He is a cat again.

We hope to save many more like him, and we’re sure that with the collective power of The Whiskers Syndicate, we can.

Thank you, again, always.


We ended up spending the whole night to give four and a half kittens another chance; but even though they are still hissing at us until today, it’s all worth it.

It was a quiet day after a long weekend. One day for the general elections, the other four for Easter. It has become a customary for brands and eatery to offer discounts for voters, and every one went out to enjoy the opportunity, once every five years.

Us? We fill our holiday grabbing whatever jobs we can hold for the extra money.

By the hospital parking lot after we tend to our little colony, we only have half opened eye and a bunch of slumping bones, too ready to give in. We still have two places left to go: one is a lone tom cat with disabled leg; one other is our beds.

There we saw a mother watching her four kittens, wiggling carefree just at the edge by the curb. They are just four weeks old, or a few days more, she is just four months old, or a few weeks more. She is a kitten herself, instead she is a mother.

We knew she was dumped, because a mother with kittens that young wouldn’t expose her litter in an open, wide, sleepless street. We knew she was dumped, because a veteran, or at least a regular street cat, wouldn’t so readily accept a coming human.

We knew that if we didn’t do anything, sooner than later, they will all end grisly.

So we parked our motorcycle, and while Sheilla ran around collecting scattered babies, I approached the mother, and kept her in my jacket. We rode as if all hell broke loose on our rear.

We provided them a makeshift baby bed, towels and blanket. We fed the mother, we medicate one of the babies who contracted Chlamydia.

Then we rode back, and get our duty done; it was two am when we called it a day.

I would love it so much, if I can just flop on the bed and wake up a bit late; but we have to drag ourselves out and cope with all the shenanigans life throws at us.

Still, whenever our brain cramped, our body whine, we look at their pictures, wherever we are. They are why we became a rescuer. They are the reason we keep trying; they are the answer to our hearts that keep on calling.

It might take a lifetime, or few years more; but once upon a time, America, England, Europe thought animals are things. There were the days when they treated animals while denying their rights.

But if we do not give up we might stand a chance. One life after another, we become the change we want to see in this world. One life after another, we will pave the way to those who one day follow our lead.

One life after another, there will be no other four and a half kittens.

One life after another, there will be happily ever after.

~ Josie


Help for feral cats outside the shelter

For over six months now, we are caring for this little colony. They lived in a parking lot of a hospital near our shelter.

The hospital hired a safety instructor who thinks animals are pests, hence should be eradicated from the face of the earth, and several times we were involved in a skirmish. Thinking in the cats’ best interest, we only go near midnight, when the officer would be gone, so the cats can eat and receive proper care without unnecessary oppression.

Half of the currently running matching challenge will go to their care. Monsoon is approaching and the surrounding environment around the hospital is not a friendly, nor humane region. We need to start trapping them to prevent unwanted population blast.

At this moment, we are matching USD 190 of USD 300 matching challenge. We need to raise USD 110 to complete the challenge by Monday. This means, if only 11 persons of over 1,400 of our followers donate USD 10, we not only able to provide for the 90 cats of Whiskers’ Syndicate, we can also give seven street cats in the colony a better life.

We cannot provide them a home, but there will be enough food for everyone. We cannot care for them all the time, but they will be free from the burden of raising kittens and the pressure of tight competition.

I am awaiting in great expectation to the moment when the challenge is met, and I am appealing to your good side to help me help these deserving cats see through better days, live long and prosper.

We are The Whiskers’ Syndicate. We save life today, change the world tomorrow.

~ Josie






As result of a fierce hailstorm and two days rain three weeks ago, our shelter is in need of immediate repair; so we set out to find a recommended, yet affordable repairman. We took all of our savings, and for the first few days, all was good.

Near the end of the contract, we had a rainstorm. A rainstorm with an ugly truth: all of the places we told him to fix were still leaking. Nothing had been done, just a few cheap tricks and shortcuts that will not withstand another day

By the way, we have a lot of rainstorms.

In exercising my right to an explanation and responsibility, I received the very common reply I received from Bandung men: That he has 15 years of experience, that he had build over twenty five houses on his own, aside of countless repairs, that he knows what he was doing, and whatever the heck he was about to do.

And that I am a woman, a younger, so I should shut my mouth and accept the end result.

Perhaps he lost his mind, if he had one in the first place, but for sure I lost my temper.

For the next few days since, we were on the roof every morning, for as long as we can before our duty calls or the rain comes.

Duty calls, as in caring for the cats. We have several that have lived past their prime. Just like humans, some age gracefully, some went through the road a little bit bumpy.

I lost Kinta, picked up from the dumpster dirty, hungry and sick as two months old, and grow up to be seven. In more sickness than health, he was a big brother to many kittens, some see their adulthood and look up to him until his passing.

I lost Freed about a week later. I went under a parking car to get him out of the engine compartment before he become minced meat. He fit the palm of my hand then, he outgrew my arms six years later. He got chronic respiratory problem, but he lived free and crossed the rainbow in his own term.

There were also several babies that we took from the street, and we kept them despite their incurable illnesses. If we cannot give them their entire lives, we can give them as long as they want. If we cannot give them prosperity, we can give them all we have, that instead of dying an orphan among the garbage of men, the rain that made their rainbow bridge were love, joy, acceptance, and security.

Drowning slowly in the quicksand of grief, I withdrew deliberately from the world to catch a breath or two. It’s a risky decision. I know that if I stop showing up for just one day the rest of the world except a handful will abandon our page; but I also know that if I just keep going without a mend, I will continue shedding a part of me until there is none, while there are still so many waiting for the touch of love they probably denied for life.

Or is there really any such thing called hope after all?

One cloudy afternoon a man walking down the street, oblivious of the four little feet trying to keep up behind him. That tiny kitten lost her liege, eventually, but there was another man with a basket full of tofu that he wants to sell for a living.

So there she went, chasing and chasing, until her two pairs of tiny legs lost all their power, and she stumbled on the road.

When she stood back up, there was none.

It took me a while to cross that dense road, because none of the passing vehicles gave me way; but when she saw me walking toward, her eyes set alight and blaze with the only one thing she remembers: hope.

Maybe, this time, if she tries hard enough, she will follow me home and hopefully find her mother, or at least someone to watch over her.

She tried to eat and she learns to drink. She sees others jump and found herself up high. She waited too long for someone to copy climbing down that she falls asleep on the kitchen counter, among dirty laundry, under a box, in a basket.

But this time, when she stands back up, she is never alone.

As I tucked her to sleep tonight, I remembered Moses. He was walking alone and he stumbled, but he stood back up and keep walking, so God opens the Red Sea just for him.

I remembered Jesus. Though He was the crown prince of the kingdom of heaven He walked alone and stumbled, but He stood back up and carried His cross, and God has given him the best of places where He rules alongside his Father.

I remember Miso. She is just six weeks old. She only has four tiny fangs; others have not grow. She didn’t know hunting, she did not know scavenging. She did not know where to get some drink, she does not know where to find her mother. She walked alone and stumbled, but she stood back up, and keep on trying, as much as she can, as long as she can. Now she lives among others, with food available as soon as she needs one, with fresh water all day long, with roof to protect her from rain and sun, with love showered upon her every day, every way.

I look to myself at the mirror. I came to this town with nothing but my person. I went to hell where people are ignorant and animals suffers through one end of life to the other. I cannot save everyone, but I can save one, then the next. I cannot make them live long and prosper, but I can give them the chance. I walked alone and stumbled, but if Moses stood back up, if Jesus stood back up, if Miso stand back up,

I should stand back up myself and keep fighting.

~ Josie


We have a new baby at the shelter

Please say hello to Miso 💚

We haven’t heard her full story yet, but do know she was rescued in the nick of time from the middle of the road, so are very thankful she’s safe.

If you can help out with a donation, or by keeping us in your thoughts/prayers, we would be very grateful.