Mothers' Day Special: The Best Mother Tortie In The World

As appeared on Animal Rescue Chase
Featured on Care2 Causes: Animal Welfare

There's this beautiful monastery by the hills of a conservatory forest in West Java, and I had an opportunity to stay there during a religious outing last December.

A square in the middle of camping ground

What I love the most from the camp is the way the Carmelites sisters and brothers in the convent left the nature undisturbed, believing that nature, in itself, is God's grace.

A beehive on the statue of St. Therese of Avilla is left undisturbed

The best part, is, of course: dinner, because at that time, various indigenous animals from nearby conservatory would go down to the smell of our food and peer to us. Two wild dogs even gone round the camp fire and naturally, got a fair share of healthy meal.

But my attention is rather drawn into a quiet, almost invisible presence near my group; a tortoise-shell cat who sit silently as she stares toward us. Whenever someone is leaving the circle one of the dogs would follow, and the cat would run away, so I think she must have been afraid of the dog. However, that night I put a plate of rice, chicken (from my group mate) and scrambled egg just outside my room, where she previously sat, and go to sleep.

The next day I wake up rather early, wondering how she is doing, and whether she ate the food I left for her, but I don't need to wonder for long. There she is, curling up at the corner of my bed, peacefully asleep. For the next few days I keep putting a plate of rice and meat, but she only took the scrambled egg.

At the last night of the outing, I saw her strolled leisurely into my tent even before dinner, and curl up on my bed, so I skip dinner and follow her. She purrs when I stroke her. I figured she is familiar enough with me, so I put her plate inside the tent and watch her eat, as I say my good bye and offer her my apologies. Tomorrow we will see each other no more, and she will lose a warm and comfortable bed, but again, she only ate the egg.

Out of curiosity I tried to checked out her teeth, and only then found out that she doesn't have teeth. None at all except for her lower left fang.

Toothless Tortie

No wonder she is so thin. I cannot imagine how hard her life must be without ability to hunt or eat properly. So I decided that night that I would bring her home, and the next day, smuggle her in my knapsack so no one know that I'm carrying a cat back to town. Luckily all of my group is animal friendly so they just shrugged when they saw me empty my knapsack and roll all my things in newspaper. Josie's antics strike again. Well, at least they don't tell anyone.

Tortie is the kindest, gentlest, and most understanding cat I have ever known. She hardly move on our way home, so the bus driver didn't know he had extra passenger.

It wasn't easy for the both of us in the beginning. Tortie, knowing that she is defenseless, barely move from the corner of my bed. She just go down for a drink, when the other cats were not around, she ate long after the other finished, and went to the litter box in wee hour in the morning when everyone else is asleep. She stays as far away as possible from the other. Even when I tried to socialize her with the other cats, she prefer to stay in a small cage where I usually keep new kittens, and stay there the rest of the day.

Tortie's sanctuary

Even when I took her for spaying she just remain quiet that the vet marvel at her "sweetness", more so because the vet is four hours drive from Bandung to the other end of Jakarta. She is amazed at how "calm" Tortie was during the journey, and she was sorry that despite all my effort to bring her to see the vet, a more senior vet than those in Bandung, she can't explain how, and why Tortie lost all her teeth. She just told me that Tortie is probably little more than one year old, and that she is a smart and quiet in the forest, that she survived until she was found, and can't imagine how she took care of her kittens, because without teeth, she won't be able to carry them, nor defend them from predators.

And there were dogs in the camping ground....

I just don't want to imagine. Tortie is with me now, and I am going to give her better days than a scary forest. With me her food is finely ground chicken meat, no bones or hard part, cat's milk and her favorite egg, but without teeth, she practically lick and swallow whatever food that comes into her mouth. The lack of proper chewing probably contribute to her difficulties with stool (she litters one every two days) and her stomach bloat easily. She has to depend on digestive aid to properly digest her food. Anyhow, a month after she first arrive in our house, she finally have normal weight, and I arrange for a special consultation with a senior vet because she has "special need"

Tortie on my lap, sedated for spaying. The curious brown dog belongs to the vet, and he thought every animals are his friend.

I can call it God's grace, or fate's play that one day I came to rescue a twin kitten I called "Tacos" and "Nachos". I accidentally hit Tortie's soft spot. Tortie reached out; she voluntarily adopt two kittens that I recently rescue, to the point of willingly nurse them despite her dried out breasts. She diligently groom the kittens and never left their side.

Tortie nursing one of the twin kitten. If you look closely, you can see her only fang stuck out

With or without teeth, Tortie is a mother. She couldn't carry Tacos or Nachos, but when she wants to move them, she will wait until the other cats were out for playing, or sleeping, and will call them to follow her. When she teach them how to jump, she will jump to the place she wanted them to be, and call and call and call pitifully until the kittens jump high enough to reach her, and then she will lick them, perhaps saying "good boys!"

If the kittens can't do it even after hours of trying? That's all right too. Tortie is still  a mother, so she will jump down and lick the kitttens "That's all right, we'll try again tomorrow" and stroll back to the cage.

If the other cats got curious and got closer, she will growl, and slap them. Her nail grows in an alarming speed, despite regular clipping. Perhaps her bodily response for lack of defense in her other part.

With courage and great motherly nature, Tortie brought up Tacos and Nachos until they are old enough to be weaned, and finally got adopted.

Tortie, however, stays. No one would want to adopt a special need cat whose food cost more than her master, much less when the potential master also need to pay for a more expensive vet charges.

Even so, I am not burdened. I am happy to be with the sweetest cat in the world, the calmest and most courageous woman of all time, and most of all, the best mother imaginable.

Happy Mothers' Day, Tortie. And to all mothers in the world.

Threading Through The Red Sea part 4: An Open Letter from A Hoarder

Last February, there was a cat sanctuary named Caboodle Ranch, home to a couple of hundred (some say a thousand) of cats. The sanctuary was raided after an "undercover" videotaping of sick cats in deplorable condition by none other than PeTA. ASPCA is said to be involved in the raid.

The raid raise global controversy unlike any other, and in the middle of the cloudy water, a fellow crafter for animal wrote a blog she said is "inspired" by the Caboodle Ranch case.

She said blatantly in her blog post that, despite has nothing to do with Caboodle Ranch, or PeTA, or ASPCA, and that she even didn't know what exactly going on, she still think that the owner of Caboodle Ranch had passed the thin line between rescuing and hoarding, and that according to herself, the raid somewhat dwindled the public trust on rescuers. Moreover, she said that as a rescuer herself, much more further, she said that she feel betrayed and hurt by what Caboodle Ranch had done.

By the way, she also said along the line of, if we rescuer has common sense, we'd know our limit, and once we reach our limit, stop taking in more animals. 

Deep in my heart, I know where she was going, and what she was trying to do with the post. A short while prior to that post, we all have a newsletter from a craft selling portal about the importance of social networking to our sales, and blogging, aside from the infamous Facebook and Twitter, is one of the best sales booster. And if you search the internet how to begin blogging, you will find that most advices say that you should start by hitting the heating topic, and go from there.

Combined by a sudden "boost" of enthusiasm (if I can't say rather aggressive ambitiousness) that she had never shown before (e.g: by jumping into any volunteer vacancy in our crafter group) I think I got the big idea. She is trying to boost sales, and she was trying to ride the heat of Caboodle Ranch case. But I also think that, with all due respect, writing about heated topic without sound knowledge of the fact is killing herself, especially because here, in the animal welfare war, there are no lukewarm party, much less neutral one. Unless you are ready to swallow the flame, you'd better play it safe. Besides, playing sides and angered the other is definitely not going to boost any sales.

As a friend I was trying to warn her that it's not good to judge without knowing all the fact, but she told me that she read enough from all the comments in Facebooks and websites (one of them are PeTA's) and that gave her enough basics to write.

Since she didn't seem to bother seeing what I was really trying to say at the bottom line, and the hint of "whatever you say folks, keep it for yourself, I am moving on" I just stay quiet instead of wasting my time by trying to go further.

Four days later, I got a notification that a reader (who are a complete stranger) put on a comment on her blog. She got her first flame.

Needless to say, she brush that off too, and after the same "I read enough" rebuttal, that was met with an even fiercer reply, she told her reader "I am so done with this topic, have a good day!"

Yaay.... (in an undertone)

Unfortunately, although I remained quiet during the short 'flaming' session, what she wrote in her blog about "stop taking in another animal when we reach our limit" disturbed me; because honestly, I don't think it's all that's easy, even in a sovereign countries like USA or UK or even Switzerland (that as the strictest animal welfare law in the world) and much more in Indonesia, that has no animal welfare law.

I mean, if you were strolling on a park one day and found a skin-and-bone cat, so hungry that he meows weakly to anyone that passed, even if he's been kicked around as result, and your house is full, would you walk away? If you walked your way to the office and found a tiny kitten that has been dumped on the road, and your house is overcrowded, would you turn your head the other way? If you see a cat with very ugly sinus that can't even walk properly, would you close your eyes and just pass? If you just, by any chance, sit around and saw someone coming to you with a box of teeny weeny baby cats and dump them on you, and your house is full, would you just stand up and show your "attitude" on them? "Hey mister, my house is full, go find somewhere else, I am so done with cats, have a nice day!"?

This morning, as I cycle to the office, I saw a 6 months old cat, skin and bone and literally sun-dried (yeah, like chappy, flaky paint under scorching sun), so weak that she crinkled like raisin and can only lay by the road, waiting for his heart to stop.

So?

Before we get to the answer to that, here is a copy and paste of how my associate define hoarder:

"I consider myself a No Kill rescuer. [...] The difference between someone like myself (for instance) and a hoarder is that the hoarder does not know his or her limits or chooses to ignore them.  This individual will become hyper-focused on the animals and will withdraw, rather than engage with anyone, let alone the rescue community.  The person will become isolated and may not let anyone onto their property.  A major clue to someone who may be a hoarder posing as a rescue is that they will not make efforts to--or even be open to--rehome animals.  That person is not a rescue.  That person is a hoarder."

We all know that my house is full, hence, I reached my limits. And there's this cat on the road. So, I walked away? Sorry little cat, my house is full, and you are lying on the wrong road. Try another house....

But I picked that cat up, get back home, and put him on a cool compress, give him electrolyte, and offer him a small plate of soft food, and of course, late for work.

This is Indonesia. People are lynched because they are different, at least verbally abused for the rest of their life, and isolation is only small part of how people here treated those who are different, in any part. So, I am isolated because while people here treat animals like "thing" (of no value) I choose to treat animals like "one" (with all values attached) and I am not ashamed to show it.

But looking at the definition above, now I am a hoarder too?

Then come here and flame me. Come here and spat on me, call me a rescuers' traitor, a disgusting piece of thing, bad mouth on me as you like, then, go inside my over crowded house, and meet the Whiskers' Syndicate.

I have all the misfits in place: A cat with hernia (Renoir, he is now healed), a castaway Persian (Boo), a cat with twisted leg (Jan), another cat with no teeth whatsoever (Tortie), a cat that once walk by dragging his lower limb (Rexie II, he is now healed), a cat that's so traumatic she will push herself under the pillow when she sees the stranger (Harley), a victim of vet malpractice (Sports), a cat that only meows once a year (Bobtail), or a black cat that's blind (Braille), then meet Friskies, Tiger Lily, Blossom, Mini...

But hey, like many other who peeked in and surprised, I promise I won't say anything when you mimic them saying "It's not what I think it would be! They are healthy, clean, fat...."

Labeling people is as easy as categorizing fruits. Judging them from your personal perspective is as simple as pointing fingers, but I wish this fellow crafter, and to whom it may concern, understand that, deciding on something by regards of an individual definition is like looking onto the whole earth from a tiny speck of dew in the twilight.

And if you have that much sparks in your soul that you can define someone in such "robust" way, remember that rescuers are human beings like you, they just live in another bucket, one that might not be as sparkling as your metropolitan city, or as large as your grand house, nor as stern as your judging definition. Somewhere out there in Rwanda, someone is abandoning their family and become isolated because she is trying to save Gorillas from being victim of two extremist political parties at war. Somewhere out there Vietnam a group of young men and women are trying to help bears from being tortured to death for their bile and by that risking their lives. Somewhere out there in the jungles of India, fresh graduates abandons their bright future and roam through the forest  trying to save the tigers. Somewhere in the open sea, a boat-full of people are abandoning their land to guard the whales. Somewhere out there in Iceland or Japan, someone is filming like crazy to reach out on behalf of the dolphins. Somewhere in the most remote part of Borneo, strangers are trying to save the Lorises and orangutans from being poached to extinction in the name of Palm Oil. Somewhere here, in Bandung, a capital breeder city of Indonesia, a small pair of hand is trying to at least ease the lives of 400 thousand stray cats that otherwise will never know what it means to be alive. (Don't eyeball on that 400 thousand. That's statistical data obtained on February 2010).

We are lonely, we are isolated, alone, oppressed, in fear and worry. We are in permanent financial recession, we are far from our families and the luxury of your safe, green-grassed yard. We are tired, but we can't just stop and go on a vacation. Our house, or facilities, are full, but unfortunately we do not share your cold heart to just walk away and stop rescuing just because our facilities are full. We have all of your indication of a hoarder. We, human beings just like you, are longing for affection and understanding, but we cast our own need away because there are these animals who need those compassion and understanding more than we do, and while we still can write websites, blogs, take photos and reach out to the world, the animals that represent our cause might not have any chance even for one second.

We will be happy for you if you get your happiness on that boost of sales, or by labeling us, but before you shut us down and tell us to have a nice day, let us say that our happiness does not come from an empty house. Our happiness comes from being able to save lives, even if it is only one more.