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.




The good news is, there is nothing broken. No bone cracked, no muscle snapped.

The good news is, there is no brain damage.

The good news is, while yesterday he can only open one eye, today he can open both. He still walks in an angle, but his steps are firmer than before. He still tilts his head, he still looks sick, but he starts to cope with his current condition, and lives with it as part of his new world.

No one said, it’s a better new world. No one promised a life happily ever after. Further examination by a vet surgeon replays the horror. He was hit on the head, flew several meters away, left untouched to die. He had to endure extreme pain, creeping hunger and choking thirst.

Choking thirst that drove him to drag himself, even half inch after another, to find some water.

The only he found was a dirty sewer; and there he went, half drowned because he cannot move, until he was found.

We are given yet another set of treatments. Supplements changed, stronger medicines given, still, there is possibility that he will walk in a slight angle, and tilt his head for the remaining of his life. We will continue to do the best and hoping for the utmost, but we are ready and willing to give him his retirement home, should he become disabled.

The good news is, he is a tough guy; or maybe stupid one. He only knows how to live, he only knows how to stay alive.

The good news is, whatever empowered him to stay alive, is now empowering him to keep on trying. As of today, he can lick the blendered food we prepare for him, and he ate with no wobble.

The good news is, he is not alone. He can be sure that we will walk beside him, run beside him, live beside him. He can be sure that we will provide all that he needs to survive his trial, and triumph in his tribulation.

All the mean and the ignorant, the naysayers who said we are scam, that we will not make it; lines of veterinarians who cautiously warn us not to hope too much, will see us standing tall and keep going.

Alone, we are nothing. Together we are The Whiskers’ Syndicate. We will prevail.



Rain had washed the hillside just before dawn; and rain washed our hillside one more time just before the sunrise.

Upon the first ray of light our hopes rise; upon our first step, our latest rescue comes to mind.

Among many friends and new family, he curls on the heating pad; his face bunched on top of the other, as others’ on top of his.

It was a peaceful face, slumbered in comfort, warmth, acceptance. He knew he’s home.

It’s not as peaceful when we start making breakfast, for the twenty kittens aside of him and another seventy in the cattery, weaving to each other, mounting defense against the cold morning.

We had a long, loud meows and demanding head bumps we never knew.

It was him; it was our new boy. He walked by himself like a drunken man from his chosen spot, to the kitchen and made commotion, but we were all smiles because he stood upright regardless.

He eagerly scrambled for food and tried just as hard to quench his thirst, kill his hunger when a plate of freshly boiled ground chicken landed on the floor.

Alas, there was so much pain everytime he moved his jaw, there was no less of pain when he tried to chew.

Like the first moment he came into our kitchen, he looked up to us, and made just as much commotion.

He got warm broth and supplements; he got kitty milk and vitamins, he got head rub and pats and praises.

After a bowl full of recharge he walked back, still like a drunk, left and right to his pad, but he stand upright none the less. One of his eyes was opened.

Every one or two ours we will have our fire truck blasting on our ears, but we are all smiles because he is getting better.

By the afternoon he starts cleaning himself, though for the rest of the day he sleeps like a rock under the sun and the noon.

When we rode him to the vet, however, rain washed the hillside one more time, stronger than ever. With wind on its side, with thunder and lightning.

We hid alongside our motorcycle and waited for the darkness to pass; still a few minutes after it stopped, just a little while after we start riding, it came back and blew us away as fiercely as before.

We wanted him to be checked, but more than that we want him to recover. We don’t want him to be more sick. We weighed the danger if we continue to ride under the storm all the way to the other end of town, and decided to ride back home.

Our kitty ambulance vet, who comes over one more time, told us he is making a lot of progress; that he is no longer dehydrated, he is no longer in too much pain. She told us the antibiotics is working, and the food we mixed and blendered for him gives him strength and power on his way to healing.

We are given a new set of treatment for him, so that he can keep his record achievement.

We will give him a new try and ride him to the surgeon tomorrow, just to be sure.

We thank everyone who is rooting on us, and may all the trolls who took our boy’s struggle to promote prejudice and ignorance, reap what they sow.

We hope you will rise with us tomorrow. We hope you ride with us to deliver our boy into recovery.

~ Josie


He was victim of hit and run. A car ran over him and he was left to die. A girl found him with bleeding mouth in the sewer and brought him home to her parents house.

She was newly married, and will soon follow her husband to a far away town, next Sunday. Her parents cannot take another cat because they already keep other cats – all rescued – and they have to take care of paraplegic grandparents.

She sent me message through Instagram explaining her situation, and asking for help. I am home alone and I do not have a vehicle to go all the way across town today, so I will have to trust her and give her our address so she can drive the cat to us.

She rode for an hour with a friend holding the cat in a basket to our place. While I tried to give as much care as possible to the half dead cat, I let them hang around the cattery and play with our mobsters.

He was severely dehydrated. So dry his skin stuck together when I pinched it. The blood in his mouth had dried, but he cannot open his jaw. He hummed in pain instead of meowing. We had to modify a syringe to put drops of kitty milk and spirulina, which gratefully he can swallow.

I gave him subcu, I put him on a heating pad, I gave him booster. It is a public holiday today, so no vet is available. We can only do our best to sustain him and help him hold himself together for the remaining of the day.

One by one, other mobsters come close to him and sniff him, as he lay there on the heater, still half dead. Remember the boy with scabies a few days ago? He is clean now and is waiting for his fur to come back. He sat beside the injured cat and lay his head on the cat’s side. Flash jumped down from his perch and lend the cat his warmth. Soon Barto squeezed in.

Slowly his face changed. From pain and fear to comfort and peace. He breathes calmly. He woke up several times and cried for us, but once one of us talk to him, he is back to sleep.

I don’t know what I will face tomorrow, when we get him to the vet; but if I can count on one thing, I know I can count on Whiskers’ Syndicate.

Please give this boy a chance. He clung to life despite the pain, grief and terror, long enough for his rescuer to find him, and although he doesn’t have to, he clings to life just a little bit stronger, hopefully long enough until we can get him the proper help he needs.

Please give this boy a hope. He never lost his trust to us Samaritans, and it’s about time we overturned his misfortune with blessings and abundance.

Please let this boy live.

~ Josie