Reflections from the Heart...and Mind: Pondering by a (Crazy?) Cat Lady Part 1

I've loved cats my entire life - my earliest memories involve dogs or cats, goats, ponies, ducks...if there's one thing about me, it's that I am an animal lover to the core. I especially have an affinity for cats.

We often think of cats as being independent, maybe spoiled, self-centered, and willing to swipe something, unprovoked, from a high place to the floor. Cats do what they want. And I've always liked that - gaining their trust and affection isn't a given, but something to be earned and cherished. There's a purity in the relationships we have we cats. We can feel that we get what we give - it's kind of safe that way.

Since living in Indonesia, I've had more cats to come in and out of my life than ever before. Some fell to the evils of rat poison (Raden Kartini Jinjibu, Siddhartha (likely), and Macan), some ran away or were more likely taken (Hebatwati and Sophia), and some just couldn't pull through the physical weakness of a motherless kitten hood (The Fabulous Four, Ringo, and a little white fluff ball who didn't make it long enough to be given a name, Lefty), and the two who didn't make it to birth or for long after (two of Saucy's litter, RIP)

I've cried over the losses of these precious animals and try, each time, to learn something that can be helpful for the next time I receive a crying kitten. I never go looking for the cats, but I can't just ignore it when I hear one crying...

The most recent story happened mere weeks ago. I was happily attending an event to support friends who are teaching the art and skills of gamelan performance to a group of young people. The kids were so cute in their East Java-styled blankong (batik turbans, basically) with their dark, Risky Business shades...

Just as the sun was beginning to set, I heard it. As usual, I tried to ignore it and tell myself that it was a bird, but after a while, I knew it wasn't so I had to go see. By the edge of the small street was an open box and three little kittens. The box had a couple of pieces of fried cassava and some poop trails...yes, the cats had come from that box and the box had been tossed there. Maybe being near the market is a fine place to discard small, useless animals - maybe there are people there who will feed them and certainly there are rats and mice, but the sun was setting and they were tiny, scared, alone, and on the side of a street.

At first I thought that maybe the mommy cat was nearby. I hadn't thoroughly checked the box out at that time and I am not fast to engage with kittens. I don't fancy myself a savior of kittens, but I'm not a passive observer, either. I had to check it all out.

The place where I was is a nice, open space with a small natural area (minimally landscaped, but maintained passive area, really) and a few trees - it's a shady place as at least one of the trees is a famed banyan.

Banyan tree in Kota Gede, Yogyakarta

I moved the box and the kittens away from the road to a safer place under a tree. I then returned to the event mere meters away. The kittens continued to cry and I felt some solace knowing that they were at least out of harm's way - maybe someone would collect them.

As the sun went down, the kittens were still ambling around the box - confused and alone. Closer to the building is the big banyan tree. These trees are the natural habitats for spirits and good things - surely the kittens would be safe there. I moved them into the curtain of roots cascading off the branches towards the ground. One little kitten, the white, fluffy one, completely ignored the soft strip of bread I gave her and retreated into the cavern of the tree trunk. The other two ate their fill of the bread and frolicked around in the new, safe space...one regularly checking on the whereabouts of the other sibling.

I know that when cats, even kittens, seek out dark places to hide that they know their time is coming...I had planned to let the babies stay there in that tree, the two happy ones enjoying the vines, as well as the local school children who would surely love them, and the other one to embrace its sad fate in the heart of the spirit tree, but I changed my mind when I saw Tatok's concerned look."I don't think we should leave them". He didn't have to twist my arm.

After collecting the small white one from the core of the tree, we put them all in a tidy clean box for the ride home. The little white one made it through the night, but passed the next day about 10:00 in the morning. The seemingly heartiest of them all, Lefty (Paul), made it one week to the day and his passing was too strong a reminder of the tragic loss of Ringo four months ago. This time, however, I knew. I knew that any attempt to save him would fail - he had been warm and well-fed. Something else was taking him away and the best I could do was to make him comfortable and love him in those last moments.

Ringo enjoying the (hopefully) healing ocean air

I've learned a lot from my experiences with kittens and cats over the past few years. I had always thought of cats as being independent and disinterested with the welfare of others. I have been proven wrong time and time again.

Hebatwati (her name means "extraordinary woman") approached our dog, Jason, when she was less than 2 months old. She went on walks with us, her little bell tinkling with every pounce, step, and leap. She often slept with him in his kennel outside, especially when it rained. Their friendship remained the same up until the day she left, disappeared, or was taken.

I no longer let the cats outside.

Jack is especially upset that he can't go outside. He has yet to be fixed (but will be this week) and he complains with groans and pained exclamations deep from within his strong, kind heart. Jack is the only other boy cat I've ever met who can be mentioned in the same sentence as my boy Rayne. Rayne was the ultimate protector. He would rest in the threshold of my daughter's bedroom door with a watchful eye on my while I did my university homework. He wouldn't go to sleep and move into either her room or mine until I was finished and in bed, myself. Rayne chased a Rhodesian Ridgeback out of the yard one day and he also chased 2 cats away from his protege, Phoebe. Rayne was one of a kind.

Rayne chillin' in a pile on laundry day

When Jack first arrived, he was maybe 2 or 3 months old. In his care was a small, white fluffy ball of cat, maybe a month old, who would be known as Saucy. Flapjack and Applesauce. Enough with the serious names, I gave these two fun names even though their personalities are not, remotely, silly.

A shot of the paint that red stain or paint that was on
Jack for the first couple of weeks...even after a good bath!

Jack was as protective of Saucy as if he were her mother. How in the world could such a small cat make it in such a harsh, lonely, environment? (It seems that they had lived/scrounged under a bridge before)

Saucy cleaned up a lot better than Jack that first day!

They took their baths nicely, but the struggles of hard living took longer to wash away. The red dye, paint or whatever that was didn't go away for weeks and they would very rarely be very far away from each other. Their dependence on and love for each other was always easy to see.

They looked pretty rough in the beginning, but their love
for one another shined through

I'm dedicating this post of my cat love to Jack and Saucy. Neither Jack nor Saucy has ever tried to scratch or hurt anybody - Saucy loves other cats and people, and Jack loves Saucy...and his "chosen people". Jack has spoiled Saucy to the point that I don't know if she realizes how hard their life was - she was still young. Saucy should be the kind of self-centered cat that many of us associate with cats, but she is not.

As they grew it, it got harder to see where one ended and
the other began

Saucy has loved and cuddled with every cat that has come into this house. Now that she is the mom of two healthy kittens, I'm sure that she is the reason that the third kitten from the side of the road is still with us. She has nursed Priscilla and cuddled her. Before Priscilla, Saucy had taken Tina and Sally under her wing, letting them cuddle with her and grooming them. How could such a cat as Saucy be so full of love and so ready to share it with others? I like to think it's because of Jack. She knows what it feels like to be loved and she shares it.

Jack and Saucy inspire me and make this house into even more of a home. I love my cats and if that makes me a crazy cat lady, then I guess that's what I am.

The moral of the story is that love is a good thing and it does good things, but we already knew that, didn't we?