Our Chikibi

Adopt, don't shop. This is how a Puspin looks like with some good ole TLC.

It was a rainy night of April 2014 and we had a late date in Chicken and Beer in Quezon Avenue. A little bit of beer and deokbokki, and spicy chicken and we were off home. We decided to walk a little to take the edge off the beer and we heard a very familiar sound, one that I have unfortunately chosen to ignore for the past few years. You see, living in the metro is not very conducive to being a crazy cat lady. Having a busy schedule at work, taking care of more than one cat will not be easy. So my husband has imposed a one-cat rule that I have strictly followed for the last 3 years.

Okay, so back to my story. The sound was so helpless, I had to use my puppy-dog eyes at my soon-to-be-husband then, I wasn't really expecting he will say yes, but I had to try. And lo and behold, he said yes, although reluctantly, he still said yes! So off we go looking for the source of the sound. It was dark, wet, and there were a lot of vehicles along the high way. With the help of our cellphone flashlights, we found him in the gutter, almost drowning, soaking wet and crying miserably for the life of him, which most likely has saved his life. I mean, he was literally one step away from falling to the sewage and into his demise.

We wrapped him with used scrubs and rushed home, only to remember we had nothing to feed him, so we rushed back to 711, it was the only store available at that time, to see if we can get some canned milk. Yes, I know, human milk is not recommended for kittens, but beggars can't be choosers, right? I gave him a warm bath of dishwashing liquid to remove the oil and dirt and found out he had fleas. Yay! Upon examination, I suspected that he was most likely 2 weeks old, that means he needs to be bottle fed round the clock! Another yay! Fortunately, I was working at an Animal Hospital that is open 24/7. I asked our nurses to take care of him at night until he can feed on his own. I was the emergency graveyard veterinarian then so I was with him at night, and the nurses took care of him day time. This worked out for us for the next few weeks.

Housing stray cats at the clinic isn't a new thing. A lot of cat ladies come to the hospital to board kittens too young to eat on their own. This means, our kitten won't be having his private quarters (haha) and will be fed together with the other kittens. Before anybody reacts, no, we don't mix kittens immediately, we make sure everybody is healthy and wont give or take viral and infectious diseases. One of Chiki's batchmates was the same color as him, pure white, but had a straight tail compared to his crooked one. The owner decided that since the said kitten can feed on his own, it will be surrendered to PAWS for adoption. Since I work night shift, I wasn't there when the kitten was picked up. When I came to work that night, imagine my face when I saw a different kitten in Chiki's quarter. Yup, Chiki was put up for adoption, and another kitten took his place. You can just imagine how infuriatingly disgusted I am with the nurse guilty of neglect; still, I asked her to get my cat as mildly as I can. After a day, Chiki was returned, full of fleas again, but healthy and happy.

So by May 2014, he was big enough to feed on his own, I brought him home to his Ate Isis (my other cat, a Sphinx). They got along but it took a few weeks for Isis to share her living space with a bitey, loud and always hungry ball of white fur. He is now 3 years old, neutered and fat, but still our little Chikibibi. He is cuddly and still bitey, and tolerates my daughter's mishandling with a WTF face directed at us. Our son, Chikibi.

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