The Road To Santiago

Almost a week had passed since I first took Mama Cat and Bobtail to the vet. It was an arduous day. I arrived very early at the clinic because as the only clinic in town that has more or less good equipment (though old), it is always full with patients, sometimes from surrounding small towns; people who wake up and start driving since dawn only to get their pets to the vet on time. It's no question that some of those pets died on their way, or on their last breath when they arrive to the clinic.

The first reaction of the newest vet there was "Oh, Mama, you are ready to deliver?" but as I explain my concerns she started touching Mama's tummy and her facial expression changes. "No babies", she said, "Only bumps, a lot of them. You'd better get her an X Ray as soon as possible because they closes at noon"

It was 10 am.

So I brief her about Bobtail, and as soon as she started with the litany of parasites names, she cut it short and tell me to go.

So I rushed back to the road with Mama Cat in her basket, drive 2 hours across the terrible traffic, registered, wait 20 minutes, go back to the cursed traffic, and back to the clinic at 2 pm. By that time, the other (more senior) vet already arrive at the clinic and looking at my face (they know me well enough), one of them walk straight to the cupboard and took all her surgery equipments, while I show her the actual X Ray.

She just shakes her head.

The vet clinic doesn't have a light box, so we see the X Ray by holding it against the sun. To upload it here I use my laptop monitor as the backlight and take a picture with my camera, so it's not clear, but I hope you can see round balls that lined up all the way to the chest cavity. The white big blob on both X Ray is the cancer. I am sure you know where the ribs are.

While waiting for the equipments to be properly sterilized, we have another emergency. A big Persian cat named "Bruce Willis" was taken back to the vet because he got urine blocking (twice already), the vets has to insert a catheter and since they have to helping hand, two of the vets dropped everything and  trying to hold Bruce with the help of a new volunteer, the only one I see after a year.

In a glimpse from next door, I know it's not right. The new volunteer was more busy with her position and the way her hair fall down than the cat. However, before I slip back to Mama Cat's side I hear my name called and go to the next room to watch the huge Bruce retaliate, is angry and bite whatever that comes across his face. The new volunteer was busy rubbing her arm and show it to everyone, including Bruce's parents, say "He scratched me, aw" over and over and burst to another room showing it off to other patients and other vet.

The two senior vets looked at me, peeked at Bruce's rear (that's bleeding) retracted the damaged catheter and get new one. Then she gave me a syringe, a bottle of Aqua Bidest and say "spray"

Two minutes. Bruce was back on Cathether, and peed a full bowl. No scratch, No bite, everybody happy, including Bruce.

I took a mental note to be careful when the new volunteer ever tried to handle Mama.

After Bruce is gone, It's Mama's turn. She has been calm and relaxed on the surgery table, that she doesn't even care the vet shaves one of her arm to insert an intravenous fluid. That's when the new volunteer comes into the room, put her laptop bag on the surgery table, pull out a pack of sea weed chips and eat there while boasting about how great the taste is and offer everyone for a try.

Without words, I moved her stuffs to the other table, including her seaweed. She didn't care and continue yapping and as she much off her seaweed, asking the vet what's going on, to which the vet said Mama had cancer and will be operated immediately.

She said "Oh", put her seaweed down, rub her hand onto her back, grab Mama's two front legs, and push them against the table with all her weight.

"Ok, she's ready" the volunteer chirps.

Mama gave a loud cry and started to trashed all over trying to break free. Mama cat, the calmest, most graceful feral cat I have ever met, is becoming a wild animal.

One of the vet said, "The legs are swollen"

It's just a few seconds. I push her aside and stand between her and Mama with my eyes straight into hers. I tried as hard as I can not to open my mouth because I know whatever is going to come out of it will not be good to hear. I just hope she is smart enough to realize what my gesture means.

She rushes out remorseless after the other vet give her eyeballs.

Because of the swollen legs we have to shave the back legs, but with the recent experience Mama lost trust on us, again trashing around and so we have to wait another day.

Her belly was already so tight that day. We were afraid that one of the balls inside her tummy burst and spill infection fluid everywhere, but we have to wait.

During my recess, I wondered if Mama is ever going to be all right again, and remember The Road To Santiago.

Road To Santiago is a legendary pilgrimage route taken by European Catholics since Medieval Age. Pilgrims started from the doorstep of their home and walk more or less 700 km through various choices of route to arrive to the church of Santiago De Compostela in Northern Spain. (Santiago is Spanish version of St. James, Jacques in French)

In the Codex_Calixtinus, Pope Callixtus II, wrote about the road: 

The pilgrim route is a very good thing, but it is narrow. For the road which leads us to life is narrow; on the other hand, the road which leads to death is broad and spacious. The pilgrim route is for those who are good: it is the lack of vices, the thwarting of the body, the increase of virtues, pardon for sins, sorrow for the penitent, the road of the righteous, love of the saints, faith in the resurrection and the reward of the blessed, a separation from hell, the protection of the heavens. It takes us away from luscious foods, it makes gluttonous fatness vanish, it restrains voluptuousness, constrains the appetites of the flesh which attack the fortress of the soul, cleanses the spirit, leads us to contemplation, humbles the haughty, raises up the lowly, loves poverty. It hates the reproach of those fuelled by greed. It loves, on the other hand, the person who gives to the poor. It rewards those who live simply and do good works; And, on the other hand, it does not pluck those who are stingy and wicked from the claws of sin.

I don't believe in coincidence, but I do not want to believe it's a premonition.

On the second day, a friend send me a message over facebook:

...believe me when I say I haven't been an animal lover and rescuer/advocate since I was a kid w/o having had gone through this to many times to count, and while it never gets easier, as you get older you tend to know the right answer, for yourself anyway, a lot sooner than when you were young

On the third day, another friend wrote me a message, also over facebook:

Oh my, her cancer condition is extremely bad. It takes a miracle for her to be cancer free. The best thing you can do is to provide the best care to her and allow her to enjoy her remaining time. Especially make her feel loved every moment. That's what I would do. Thanks for helping them.

During the tenure of that 3 days Mama Cat start slipping out and medication start to stop working, gradually. Her chest started to be filled with water. She shed a lot, and eat only a little. Looking back at those days, I should have known. Yet I choose to run away and continue my denials.

Besides, Mama Cat is finally ready. She is as calm and relaxed as she used to be, and we sedate her without any incident.

When the vet was about to put down that scalpel on her, however, she breathed deeply. Jerks for a second, took one more deep breath,

slipped the surly bonds of Earth

–and touched the Face of God

None of us in the room said anything. The vet was petrified with her scalpel still in mid air. I was gripping on the IV fluid's staff as I gaze on the fluid that was still dripping.

I don't know who was the first between us to jump back to reality, but whatever we did after that was surreal. Taking off oxygen mask, turning off the anaesthesia, pulling off IV. And then my vet dropped everything, go to the corner of the room and pray. I saw her trying very hard to keep her tears from flowing out.

I took Mama Cat to my arm and lay her down on my chest, still hoping that she is asleep. And then a friend of the volunteer who she brought along came inside and commented

"What a peaceful sleep"

She took my cell phone from my hand, took a picture, and gave it to me so I can see how she looks.

I didn't even realize until now that I was still holding the IV staff then.

A narrow road to life, indeed, but it's the road of the righteous, love of the saints, faith in the resurrection and the reward of the blessed, a separation from hell, the protection of the heavens.

It was already late when I arrived back home with Mama Cat's ashes. The night sky was light by the big full moon, right on top of the cattery, perhaps lighting the way for her to cross the rainbow bridge.

The cats are lining up at the background, watching the ashes flown off

I put her ashes there, in the middle of the backyard and have the wind carry her everywhere, as far as where she once roam the streets of the mountain side, and to cover the entire backyard where she will always belongs.

 When I came into the house, Bobtail was on top of the refrigerator. He has been hiding at the side of the fridge all the time since he went home. He still tiptoes wherever he goes, to his food bowl, or to drink, or to the bathroom, afraid; but staying in one place and not moving a lot helps his paws heal faster. His stubby tail is still bald, and all the wounds that start to crust made him very ugly, but with that charred paw he taps on my cheek, when I approach him, and then he pushed his head onto me.

It was that push that blow the dam I build so high to keep my tears inside.

Like Mama Cat, his path to life is narrow, though of different route and it's going to be a very long time to heal the depth of his heart. I cannot stop apologizing to him for letting him go to a wrong house, but I also never stop praising him for running away (?) and take his pilgrimage, on foot, few hundreds meters away, to find himself back home.

On my cellphone tonight, there's yet another message:

We laid him in a cool and shadowed grove

One evening in the dreamy scent of thyme

Where leaves were green, and whispered high above —

A grave as humble as it was sublime;

There, dreaming in the fading deeps of light —

The hands that thrilled to touch a woman's hair;

Brown eyes, that loved the Day, and looked on Night,

A soul that found at last its answered Prayer...

There daylight, as a dust, slips through the trees.

And drifting, gilds the fern around his grave —

Where even now, perhaps, the evening breeze

Steals shyly past the tomb of him who gave

New sight to blinded eyes; who sometimes wept —

A short time dearly loved; and after, — slept."

It's a poem by John Gillespie Magee Jr., an aviator poet in World War II. He fly for Royal Canadian Air Force, and his poem: High Flight, part of which I quoted on this post, is officially used by Royal Air Force, Royal Canadian Air Force, and United States Air Force Academy.  A choice made to bow respect to all of Mama Cat and Bobtail's supporters who come from USA, Canada, Australia and Netherlands.

Sequential Thriller

In the movie, a thriller takes only a few minutes, but the impression can last for some times.

I hope this post is going to be the same. It is just a short note, but I hope it reached out to your heart to help our latest rescue.

Aside from running a sanctuary, I have been trying to TNR the neighbourhood strays and feral as much as I can. One of them is a grey tabby with a white belly female who seems to be friendly, compared to other street cats who will jump and run away on sight of human. The other reason we're keeping an eye on her is because she seems to be pregnant.

The good news is, I am finally able to get her into the carrier and brought her home last month.

I was planning to have her deliver her babies at home, so her babies will have chance to be adopted; and since she is docile and sweet, I have high hope that her too will have the chance to be adopted, no matter how long it will take.

Unfortunately, she didn't show any sign of giving birth even after a month and a half, so I am getting worried.

This morning, I saw blood in her rear and when I checked on her belly, it's so tight and swollen, that I thought it can burst out any moment.

 

And then, later this afternoon, I got a surprise visitor.

Bobtail was rescued last year, and when I moved to the new house, a neighbour saw him sitting on the window sill and ended up adopting him. So I neuter him and sent him to his new home a few hundred meters downhill.

This afternoon, I saw him sitting right in front of the front door, filthy, full of mange, and practically skin and bone.

I let him in and gave him food, and while Bobtail practically swallow everything, I went down to the neighbour's house, but no one's answering. I know she is home because I saw her motorcycle, but the door's not opening.

Bobtail, before he was adopted

Bobtail this afternoon

I don't know whether bobtail go home by himself (he knows the way to my house) or his new owner just dump him in front of the house, but I need to bring the two of them to see the vet tomorrow.

The mama cat will need an ultrasound, and if she does carry dead foetus in her (what I am afraid of), she will need an immediate surgery.

Bobtail's paw has a lot of ulcers, possibly because of stepping on some chemical for a long time. He got ear mite, and I am almost sure he got parasite (e.g. worm or bacteria, or both).

The bad news is, my fund raising is not going well. As August creeping to the end, we are only able to raise USD 160 out of USD 700 that we need for our monthly operation. The sales in our Etsy store is not great either, so I have been going to some side job to make it through this month.

We need approximately USD 200 for these two babies. So, I hope someone can help, no matter just a penny.

I know everyone is on tight money and there's not much hope left for us, but I can't just give up and watch them suffer.

Help me help them. You can click below, share their story with friends, or both. Anything goes.

Whatever you decide to do, THANK YOU.

Destiny's game: Tealca

Have you ever run into too many coincidences? 

This post is the first part of two writings (maybe three) about those chain of inexplicable coincidences, except of course, I don't believe in coincidences, I believe in my Lord that manage everything in my life, up to the best second for me to wake up.

With monsoon finally shifted into summer, so our battle with damp and wet monsoon comes to an end. And after all the bacteria and viruses and everything in between and whatever come with those, here is how things looks in Whiskers' Syndicate:

But we owe a lot of stories as answers to all those questions in our email, so we're going to write for a little bit more.

Perhaps starting with the end of last month.

With all of you cheering on us, patting our back, nudging our shoulders, and breaking fingers for crossing it too long, we break a new high on the Whiskers' Syndicate records.

Of five years of quest and adventure, this year marks our greatest success in the battle against sickness and death. We are able to save most of the kittens that came into our sanctuary during the bacteria outbreak. It means the number of cats that we must feed jumps significantly compared to December last year. It means after this, our burden is heavier, but we are still walking with our chin up; One battle won, we hope the war will be next.

You may kiss the bride do the happy dance, as long as you want.

We did ours, but not before mourning for all that passed the rainbow bridge before us. Although their number is significantly less, they are our friends, our family. They have the same right to live long and happy life, but it seems like The Rainbow Bridge management is open for recruitment, and they all qualify to be the next apprentice of St. Francis of Assisi.

One of the last two that departed is Tealca. The yellow and white daredevil kitten who stars Fry Me To The Moon. As special as Tealca himself, is the way he passed on.

I was visiting the vet clinic down town that day when I saw a very ugly, skin and bone, mange eaten, scar ridden, fur-less old cat walking across the clinic's parking lot.

At first I thought it was Sphinx cat, but then, why on earth would a Sphinx - a very expensive breed - wandering around on the street? It is possible that he is here because his owner want to cure that skin disaster, but still no breeder would have allow his/her expensive "commercial asset" to wander around unattended.

Since I was scratching my head on his path, he stopped and looked up. That cat has brown mask, brown legging, with white socks and blue eyes.

Similar to those of a Siamese.

I cringe. First I got Boo, a pure bred Persian who was dumped at (another) vet clinic, and now we have Siamese.

Bandung breeder must be very rich.

So I blow out a big sigh, grab the ugly cat, and bring him into the clinic with me, but the vet didn't look surprised to see him.

"Oh, Abba, what's with him?"

"Abba?"

The vet shrugs. "He was thrown away from a speeding car. The parking person saw a black SUV swooshing by and when the car's gone he's standing on the street, confused"

"He looks very very ugly that time", she adds.


Wonderful how people here can make such a stunt to get rid of their unwanted pet, don't you think?

Then I explain to the vet about Tealca and the origin of his name, and show her the picture of the original Tealca, who has more or less the same coat.


The vet did asked me if I have some room left for him. Abba is not in good terms with the other two resident cats. He bully the older female, and is bullied by the younger male.

She also told me that usually, Abba doesn't like to be hold by a stranger, but he is OK with me. Abba usually went out from the clinic through the door, but that day when I found him, all door is closed and he went out through an opened window.

But then, I have Tealca and Monday still sick. I need to make a break so that a healthy cat won't get infected and potentially died because he entered a war zone (our house), so I am not sure I can give Abba the special care that he currently need. For a Siamese to be so badly treated to come to look like Sphinx with holes on his skin is no easy case.

So I left Abba at the clinic, with a promise that I will consider taking him in and will return with the answer in one or two weeks. Who knows that he will get better patron by then? Plenty of people would have want a Siamese cat. 

At that time, I have a high hope that both Tealca and Monday will make it through, but after that fated meeting, Tealca is never better. He is slowly sliding out of life; and after living with antibiotics and medicine to sustain his health for over two months, he got better but when he's off the antibiotics his sickness is back again. I hate doing it, but I think perhaps it's time to open the door and have him choose which way he wants to go.

He chose the rainbow bridge.

I felt defeated, but I know it's time. A cat cannot live on antibiotics forever, much less a kitten. Sooner or later his liver is going to fail, or his kidney is going to fail, and he will be on more pain than before. I have to let go, and all the time when I feel I fail him, I keep reminding myself that even if my house is perfect, heaven is better.

When I finally get over the loss, after two weeks, I looked at the empty basket in which I usually carry the cats to the vet, and remember Abba. Then I thought that perhaps, it was meant to be that way. It might be a coincidence, but I don't believe in one. Being a Catholic I was taught to believe that God arrange every single thing that is best for us, and being a Japanese, I was taught that there's nothing such as coincidence, there's only hitsuzen; something that's meant to be. Perhaps my Tealca is a messenger, a bridge that connect us to Abba, or that maybe my Tealca is God's message to Abba's prayer for the betterment of his life. There were already so many coincidences when we first met Abba.

So, blowing a big breath once again, I change my clothes, pick up the basket, and went down town. I didn't call the vet first. I thought that if Abba was meant to be with us, he will still be there.

He is there.

He is still half conscious because the vet have just neuter him (another coincidence?) and that his scabies has just cleared out a few days earlier so aside from his bald skin that need time to heal, he is practically ready for a new home (yet another coincidence?)

When he finally wake up, I tried to convince myself for the last time. I call him "Tealca"

And that cat turned to me, and meow.

So he went back home to the Syndicate. He is still bald, and all that mange eaten scars made him even more unsightly. His marking is faint, and he is thin and crinkly.

He is about the saddest looking cat that I ever met in the past few months.

 

Just gone out of the carrier and try to explore

If I entered him into a casting for "Paranormal Activities" or "The Exorcist IV" he probably qualified on the spot. Or, with that marking on his nose, maybe a spin-off like "Hey Hitler"?

In the Syndicate he become Abba Tealca, though he doesn't resemble a father at the very least. He is just an Abba because of his age, but unlike Peta, who handles younger cats and his peers with gentleness, Abba went out to the back yard and pick up a fight with the biggest cat in the Syndicate regardless of his condition (is still bald, and just gone out a surgery).

He spent the rest of the week inside a cage, and I told him firmly he is going to stay there until he can manage his temper.

He is calmer after three days, and so I allow her to wander freely inside the house along with the kittens. I still watch him like a hawk, and never once fail to call his name whenever he is trying to do evil things. I know Siamese can be mischievous, but I never thought Tealca III can be that evil. He once tumbled a whole pot of soup and walked away remorse-less. He also punch a tooth hole on a bottle of earmiticide I used to treat his ear. (Thank God he didn't lick it!)

What helped calm him down is the other mobster's ignorance. They are so used to new cats come and go that they don't really care about fighting for their space. For most of the time, when Abba Tealca hisses on someone, they just look at him, huffs, and move on.

This greatly baffles him, of course. With that fur-less face I can see all the crinkles on his forehead, and that expression on his eyes says it all. He still tried to pick a fight by poking at the passer-by, but again, they just ignore him, especially when I am around. He just stare blankly seeing all 40 of us - human and kittens and cats - chasing one ball like there's no tomorrow, so the next few days I let him out of the cage, and let him watch from the side. I bet that when a ball pass in front of him he'd probably just play along, forgetting his "stranger" status.

And I won. Abba Tealca play ball and since then, become one of the Syndicate.

He is still special and spend the night inside the house, because it's still cold out there and he has no fur to defend him. He got special food with extra salmon oil and vitamin E to help his skin heal and his fur grow faster. I got him the ointment that my mother used on Charlie, but he is mad with the smell. I tried mixing it with coconut oil, which smells rather savoury, but he ended up licking on it all the time, so I put a cone on him whenever I give ointment, and he protested by ramming anyone with it.

I wonder how my Australian mother keeps up with her original Tealca.

Luckily it only ended for around two weeks. On super premium food, and extra care, his fur started to grow, and Abba Tealca give me a bonus.

I knew that his fur is suppose to be brown, and it's somewhat faint because he was malnourished, but I never thought that it's going to be so dark. A nice contrast with his other part.

But that's not the bonus. The bonus is his newly grown pot belly (see picture above), and he (looks) 10 years younger (haha).

Those people who went all through that stunt to dump him is going to be sorry.

Wonder how long and thick his fur is going to be? I can't wait to have his fur all grown back and bring him to the vet again to show him off.

Abba Tealca, August 5, 2013. Sleeping at the back is Boo.

His "Hitler moustache" is no helping though, but if I changed it to Churchill or Chaplin some fan is going to shoot me.

Again, may he has the blessing of original Tealca, and  and my passing Tealca to live a happy, healthy, lengthy life.

So help me God.