Once in a blue moon, I blow a fuse and short-circuit.
I mean me, not the fusebox.
Today is such a day when I cannot take it anymore. It's called the last straw on the camel's back. And when this happens, my brain doesn't explode nor do I go on a rampage, but I'll stay in my room and cry my heart out. I know why they always advise you to have a "good cry". Crying is good. It sure is better than keeping everything bottled up and exploding later on.
So I had a really GOOD cry this afternoon. And now, I'm able to function again...
Let me tell you what I do every afternoon when I come home from work ever since Indy migrated out from the house because he was angry with the Blueys. It's been weeks already...
As I drive home and as I approach my road, my greatest fear is seeing a dead body on the road. You'd understand why I have this fear if you read on....(be forewarned please, this is a very long post...please skip it if you'd rather not read it).
I heave a sigh of relief if there is no dead body on the road.
I park my car and I go up and down the road to hunt for Indy. My other fear is, will today be the day Indy decides to run away from home for good? And I'll never see him again? You think I'm going overboard and dramatising it? Please read on...
I look into every house, every drain, every bush...Indy, Indy, I call. Where are you, Indy? Please come out. My heart beats with fear that this might just be the day I'd never see Indy again...
A few days ago, I found him inside this dumper. Ever since he "left home", he has been looking for another place to call "home". Imagine Indy living in this dumper. He used to have a comfortable life at home, lounging in the living room. Now, he chooses to live in this dumper. Imagine how I feel....
Today I found Indy here, at the neighbour's house again. He is sitting on top of the neighbour's car. Nobody likes a cat sitting on top of his car. But how do I stop Indy from doing it? His place used to be the top of our car in our porch. But after he migrated out, Cleo has conquered the porch. And Indy isn't going to get it back.
I'll tell you what happened this afternoon in the next post, because right now, I want to rewind back in time and tell you why I cannot adopt anymore cats or kittens and that six is all I can handle.
For those of you who have written in comments assuring me Indy would come home - thank you very much, but here's Pole (photo taken this afternoon when I went to call her back from the neighbour's).
Pole was chased out by her brothers, Cow & Bunny, when she was 1 year old, after she was done nursing her litter, Wolf, Pans and Cleo. Pole has not "come home" ever since then. That's four years now.
She only comes home to eat several times a day or when it rains. That's about it. She lives in several neighbours' porches, alternating between them as she deems fit. Once Pole went missing for four days. We searched the entire neighbourhood and could not find her. After four days, she came back one night. And when she did, she cried. Yes, Pole really shed tears. We guessed someone could have caught her and she must have travelled a long way to come home, or tried for days to escape and come home to us. Pole stayed home, refusing to go out for a few days, then it was back on the street as a community cat again.
For those who keep telling me to adopt the Blueys, I have repeatedly said my house isn't safe for kittens. And why so? Here's why....
My cats are free-roaming. To be fair to them, I cannot barricade my windows and doors as they need to come in and out.
You see these two babies up there? That's Cleo and her brother, Pans (the black-and-white one). I lost Pans when he was about 4-5 months old. He was the first kitten I lost. We kept all three of them (including first-born, Wolf) indoors and Pole looked after them so well, but Pans must have sneaked out one night. He was found stone cold under a tree across our road. My house is not safe for kittens. Neither is my road.
Again, for those who tell me to adopt the Blueys, I have also told you that Cow,Bunny & Cleo have this habit of chasing 4-5 months' old kittens out of the house. They are okay with very young kittens, but not when they find the kittens growing up and becoming a threat to them. Cleo chased her own brother Wolf, out of the house until one day, Wolf decided he would run away. We knew Cleo and Wolf were fighting, but tried as we did, we could not mediate nor stop the fights.
That's me trying to make peace between Cleo and Wolf shortly before Wolf ran away from home, never to return.
The last photo taken of Wolf a day before he ran away....for good.
We searched for him, driving around the neighbourhood, going on foot, on bicycle, for many, many days. We continued for months. Every once in the while, my children will think they see a Wolf look-alike, but it isn't him. We never found Wolf - there is no closure - do you know how painful that is? Till today, we harbour a hope that Wolf has found a safer and happier home somewhere in our neighbourhood. We prefer to think positive.
For those who tell me to adopt the Blueys, I have told you my house isn't safe. Cow, Bunny and Cleo are too alpha. They will chase kittens out.
Perhaps the only kitten who had ever won over everybody's hearts was Suki.
Suki was everybody's darling. Even the blog readers loved her antics, especially her coup-de-tats (remember?)
Suki was handed over to me because her rescuer could not look after her. I agreed to look after little Suki. We kept Suki indoors for five months. We kept the windows closed. Suki was a precocious little kitten who gave us so, so much joy. She was the most intelligent kitten I've ever known all my life. Then, we started opening the windows, and trained Suki to play in the porch under supervision. When we were "sure" she would only stay in the porch (and she did), we left the windows open so that finally, our adult cats could go in and out freely again.
One evening, when I was out, Suki must have wandered out onto the road. I came back and could not find her anywhere.
Later that night, we found Suki. A neighbour had knocked her down. Suki was gone.
My house is NOT safe for kittens unless I keep them in a locked room or a cage. I do not want to do that to any cat - to remain locked up for life.
My road is NOT safe for kittens.
So, please stop asking me to adopt the Blueys.
And for those who tell me my cats will all make peace....
This is Joanie. Joanie was dumped on me by a rescuer from Old Klang Road. Joanie suffered from obstructed labour and I nursed her back to health after a miraculous surgery done by one of the greatest surgeons I've ever known (who unfortunately has now left the country).
After 20 days with me, Joanie ran away from my house. She must have been intimidated by my alphas or the presence of my cats, so she ran away. I cried for days after that. We spotted Joanie for a few days after that, but we never saw her again since then. My only consolation is what the vet told me (or rather, comforted me with), he said Joanie must be feeling on top of the world to run away and be free again. She had lived as a stray and she just wanted to be free again.
And this is Wii.
Wii and Vixey were rescued together from a rubbish heap at the playground. Vixey was a pygmy kitten (congenital growth problems) and lived a short life. After Vixey passed away, Wii exiled himself out to the back alley and once he had vacated his space in the house, he could not get it back. Cow & Bunny chased him off each time he came home to eat. Tiger was his only friend. I finally had to rehome Wii because the back neighbour could not tolerate the sight and sounds of any animal in the back alley. My dear friend, Roselin, whom I am indebted to for lifetimes, adopted Wii. Wii is now happily living with Roselin's family, and he became an alpha in Roselin's feline colony!
And for those of you who say everything will be fine and my cats won't fight anymore, or Indy will be okay and he will come home...here's another story, and this would be my last story for this post as it is the saddest...
This is Kimba. I loved Kimba so much. Kimba came to my back alley late one night and called for help. He was also a bluepoint. To cut a long story short, I believe Kimba had a past-life affinity with me because he jumped straight into my arms when I opened the backdoor and he made himself right at home.
Kimba slept with me on my bed every night, and accompanied me everywhere in the house.
Indy and Kimba were the best of friends. They got on like a house on fire. We were so happy just watching them play.
Then, as luck would have it, a rescuer dumped Creamie and Crackers on me. Yes, I was a total sucker for emotional blackmailing at that time. Kittens-in-box-if-you-don't-pick-up-they-will-die, familiar?
Creamie and Crackers were in dire straits so I had to spend time nursing them. Kimba got very jealous and started running out to the road. He would come into the room, see me nursing Creamie and Crackers and he would growl, hiss and run off. Kimba stopped being close to me, but still followed me if I was out of the room, away from Creamie and Crackers.
One night, Kimba followed me out to throw the garbage. A neighbour's car drove pass very slowly. Kimba walked straight into the path of the car and was run down. I watched Kimba's body jerking on the road. I carried Kimba's bleeding body into the house and I stayed with him. I almost fainted in those few tragic-stricken moments where I could do nothing but pray for it to be quick. Kimba died in my arms within minutes, or was it seconds? I don't know...
It was almost like suicide, if you asked me. He walked straight into the path of the car, almost like saying, "It's time for me to go now...goodbye." And he was gone. I went into denial for weeks. I was traumatised. I bargained with someone higher to give me back my little Kimba. Every moment, I bargained. I bargained and I bargained but nobody would answer me and grant me my wish. Every moment, I told myself it was just a nightmare and that I would wake up the next moment and see Kimba again. I went into depression after that. Months of depression where I became suicidal.Till today, Kimba's tragic death replays itself in my mind.
Now you know why I fear seeing another dead body on the road.
If you have been through what I've been through, you might be able to empathise with me. I'm not made of steel.
My husband has said Indy will be our last adopted cat. You can help foster, he said, but get them adopted. We cannot adopt anymore. Kimba died. Suki died. All the rest who came after that were all adopted out. There have been many, and they have all been blessed to have found good homes.
Maybe there is something about Indy, maybe he is the last cat we would ever be able to adopt - that's my husband's theory.
So, please...my house and my road is NOT safe for kittens, so please stop asking me to adopt the Blueys.
If you want to be my friend, please help me find the Blueys a good home instead.
This is as much as I can take, and if the next person, again, says to me, "You only have six, what's another two more?", please forgive me if I say something impolite to you. I've heard that too often, and I'm very tired of hearing that now.
Yes, I offer to foster, but if and only if no one else can do it. That's all I can do - FOSTER kittens until they can eat on their own. That much I would do, if need be. Even then, there is the danger of my cats running away. And of course Cow & Bunny will go on a massive spraying spree and I'll have to paint the house again.
FOSTER is not rehome.
FOSTER is not adopt.
FOSTER is FOSTER.
But all said, who do I blame for my snapping today?
Myself.
I blame myself for getting so disappointed because I made the mistake of trusting people and having expectations that they will keep their word.
So, I blame no one but myself.
And now, if you'd excuse me, I have to go look for Indy. It is raining heavily and I don't know where he is. Thank goodness for umbrellas....
And oh, I owe you a story about this afternoon....hang on. I may have snapped today, but I can still write.
And, will I foster anymore kittens after this experience?
You got to be kidding, right?
Maybe I will, but will you promise to take them once they are on kibbles and are well enough?
You promise?
Sure?
And if you cannot find any adopter, YOU will take them yourself when I say I can no longer foster them?
That is precisely what I would do, if I ask someone to foster animals for me.
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