#2204

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Hi! My name is Lorne. I’m three years old and I live with my sister, Willow, and our two moms. Willow and I were born in a crowded place with a lot of other cats. It wasn’t very nice, but then our moms found us and took us home! Now we live in a nice big house with so many good places for napping and playing. We even have a catio so we can go outside and still be safe, but I don’t understand how the door works so I haven’t explored it yet. I do like watching the birds from the window, though, and sleeping in the sunshine.

Our mamas take really good care of us. We get a new box of toys every month in the mail and all the tummy rubs we want. Willow and I have to eat special food so I don’t have trouble peeing, but if I wiggle my butt enough sometimes mama will give me treats. (Mama says I’m not chunky, I’m just big boned!) It’s really nice here. I spend most of my day sleeping on our mamas’ bed or wrestling with Willow. As the man of the house it’s up to me to keep us safe, though, so I also check the cupboards regularly and yell at them if I need to. You can’t be too careful.

I used to think all kitties got to live in nice places like me, with all the toys and sleeping spots they could want, but mama told me that’s not true. She said lots of cats have to live outside where it’s cold and wet and they don’t always get to eat dinner. She also said some humans are really mean to cats, and hurt them for no good reason. This made me really sad! I think every cat deserves a nice home and good humans to take care of them. I’d be really scared if I had to live outside, and I would be lonely if I didn’t have Willow and our mamas.

I asked mama what I could do to help all those other kitties and she said there’s a cat rescue she works with called The Whiskers Syndicate. It’s a shelter run by a really nice lady name Josie who takes care of needy cats in a far away place called Indonesia. The people there aren’t as kind to kitties as people are here in America, so there are lots of cats who need her help. Mama donates money to The Whiskers lady, and she said maybe I should ask everyone she knows if they would want to donate some too. Or if they couldn’t, maybe they could at least share this so others can see it too. What a great idea!

I’m really grateful to have such a good family; thank you for letting me tell you about us! If you liked my story, please consider clicking this link and donating a dollar or two to Josie’s family, or even just sharing this so we reach more people. If you can’t, a prayer is just as good! I know they are very grateful for anything you can spare and you’ll be helping kitties like me have a safe place to sleep and play. That’s what every kitty wants and deserves.

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Kitten season — Whiskers Syndicate

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If you’re looking for a charity to support during the winter holidays, please consider the gift of a small donation to The Whiskers Syndicate and their 100+ needy kitties. Every dollar helps put food in tiny tummies!

Among many factors that contribute to the estrus cycle of female cats, light (that affect temperature) is one. Cats need at least 10 hours a day to stay fertile, which is why kitty season happens during spring or summer. Cats also breeds faster in temperate climates, and Indonesia is tropical country. We have kitty season…

via Kitten season — Whiskers Syndicate

HOW DO YOU TALK TO AN ANGEL? — Whiskers Syndicate

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The world feels like an especially dark place right now and like there’s nothing we can do on an individual level to make any appreciable difference. I definitely drown in that feeling of helplessness sometimes and I know others do too. I therefore try to take great comfort in my work with The Whiskers Syndicate, knowing that even just a dollar or two can mean the difference between starvation and survival for a needy cat. A few seconds on PayPal ensures I can do something this very day, this very moment, for a creature who actively suffers. Against all of the world’s ills this may seem like a minuscule drop of good, but in a world where the most vulnerable among us cannot speak their needs it is imperative we speak for them. There are countless charities doing amazing and extremely difficult work every day… but not many for whom just a single dollar can make such a difference. It’s a can of tuna, a hot bath, a drop of flea medication. It’s an oasis of safety and warmth in a land where Bast’s divine children are treated like vermin. It’s a chance to get to tomorrow – how can I deny any living creature that right?

How do I talk to all of you? Near or far, small or big, once or often, financially – most of all – and by shares, comments, love, prayers, encouragements, all of you have relentlessly lent your hand and folded up your sleeve to stand with us through the depth of the battle that swamped…

via HOW DO YOU TALK TO AN ANGEL? — Whiskers Syndicate

#2151

I have never felt closer to divinity than sitting in a stuffy little room which smells of cat litter while singing a lullaby Bast helped me write to three nearly feral kittens. They fled at my approach, five days of safety and good food not yet enough to win them over, and stared at me with wide, reproachful eyes as I sat down just inside the door. Then I started to sing – the lullaby first, my voice a little weak from the last traces of a cold. Glancing inconspicuously, I found at least one little face turned my way, though two still hid. I moved on to the songs that have brought me peace over the years, old hymns and spirituals and various songs collected from choir and pop culture. I had two sets of eyes watching me, then, and a still resolute back turned my way. I kept singing; songs that remind me of Bast, of home, of the undeniable divine spark in music from other religions, other cultures, other times. I peeked again and saw all three kittens facing me now, the bravest with drooping eyes and the wariest with unwilling curiosity. My voice could take no more so I started humming whatever gentle tunes came to mind the way a mother might idly hum to her crying babe. When I looked next I could see two little white bodies stretched out in their hiding place, no longer bunched up with the need to fight or flee but relaxed in weary sleep. Even the third had succumbed to so drowsy a state that when I slowly, so very slowly rose to my feet my movement woke, yet startled, no one. I whispered my goodbyes to three little watchful faces that seemed, at least to me, slightly less wary and took my leave for the night, praising Bast for the gift of music as I closed the door.