Good morning, everyone. It is now 3.45am (yes, I do sleep, but I also wake up very early because there is so much to do and 24 hours is sometimes not enough!).
For the past few days ever since Joanie had been fighting for her life, I have woken up every morning thinking about her, fearing for the worst, but also praying that Joanie will fight on and get well moment by moment. As I drive to the hospital, I fear I would be greeted with bad news as I walk through the door. When my phone rings, I jump and my heart misses many beats.
This morning, I woke up, maybe a little less fearful because Joanie seemed to have improved a little yesterday, yet I remember what the doctor said: “I am only afraid she may get better suddenly, and then she just goes”. Yes, I am aware of that possibility. Doesn’t that happen to us humans too? Sometimes we cannot explain the course of life. It just happens, and nobody knows why.
Joanie is not even my cat, and I only got to know her when we went to pick her up on Sunday evening, in a critical condition. Yet, in a short while, the bond is formed. A past life connection? Perhaps. But it isn’t about that. It is about how deeply connected we all are, and that we must do everything possible to help each other, regardless of race, religion, fur or feathers.
We are all deeply related. We do not need philosophers to tell us that. Search deep into your heart, and you will find this truth. Look into the eyes of any other being, and you will realise that this is true.
Let me digress a little now and introduce you to Vixey, my little black cat (see photo above). Although she looks small, Vixey is not a kitten anymore. She is an adult cat, but is a dwarf (a “pgymy” cat). She became “retarded” after having survived a brain trauma at 1-month old. My daughter and I rescued her from a rubbish heap in Sept 2007. When she had the brain trauma, her life was hanging by the thread for three days in the clinic, hooked up with steroid drips. I camped at the clinic for many hours every day, praying for her, just as I am doing now for Joanie. Throughout those three days, Vixey appeared lifeless and the only sign of life was her breathing and the fact that she was ingesting food. There was fluid in her brain and that caused a substantial amount of brain damage. She also had a spinal chord injury.
To cut a long story short, Vixey took one year to “recover”. She was dull and lifeless for one year, pretty much living like a human with Down Syndrome and even looks like one (her face is flat, her body not proportional).
She still has not fully recovered, but she has begun to “come back to life” now, after one year. She responds to me, she even plays with me now, and none of my other cats dare to bully her. I would like to think they understand that she is “special” and they respect that.
When I brought back kittens for fostering in the past, Vixey would be the one looking after them. She would train them to use the bathroom and kitchen. She takes them to the bathroom to do their business and guides them to the kitchen to eat and drink from the food bowls. She may be “retarded”, but she makes herself useful.
Allow me now to be optimistic about Joanie. In the event that Joanie recovers (and we are all rooting for that), would anyone be interested to adopt her? I understand from the doctors that the toxins may have already spread to her entire body and the blood test results do not look good. She may have lost some of her primary functions and might need nursing care for life.
Right now, our concern is her urination. The septicaemia may have had adverse effects on her urinary tract because it is in the same place as the lower end of her reproductive system. She may have some degree of brain damage too (just as Vixey does).
If there’s anyone out there who would like to experience the challenge and joy of looking after Joanie, please do contact me.
Let’s all stay positive for Joanie. Medical science is wonderful and can do so much. At the same time, we help by sending positive thoughts because there is always the emotional healing, of knowing that there are people out there who care for you, and who want so much for you to be well. Knowing this is comforting, and animals have this intelligence and sixth sense.
There is a collective existence that we all share, and we can all contribute positively to this collective existence by caring for one another and wishing each other well. It is this universal and boundless loving-kindness that will ensure our collective wellbeing and our very survival.