The Four

It started like this...

Four was more than I expected. You always think- one more can't make that much more of a difference-- and then there's one more, then one more.

As with so many things in life, we never plan on loving or caring. And then when it happens, do we shut the door so there's no risk of loss or hurt?

(left) taking The Four home-
(right) Astro on my lap because his sisters were trying to suckle on him

The Four were siblings barely 4 weeks old. I couldn't possibly have them separated- they had already just lost the only thing they knew and their only lifeline, a warm furry mum. So I said yes, I'd help foster the Four who were found abandoned in a shoe box and left out in the rain.

So I started with the Four- not thinking that it would make much more of a difference from taking care of one. Reality soon woke me, screaming in my face- or actually the Four did- when they were constantly hungry, needing a cuddle, pushed out of their blanket space by another sibling, bullying each other, sharing a litter box that was already used by one of the Four, etc. etc. etc.

Yes, Four made a difference when it came to taking care of them.
This little kindle certainly didn't appreciate the fact that I didn't run a multi-station milk bar. They expressed their impatience with my inferior 2-hands and one bottle facility coupled with no prior experience on the job. But we struggled and we managed.

There was Astro-Boy. The kids had a big cookie clear plastic bottle in their carrier-house which Astro-Boy would creep in to nap to escape from his bullying sisters. Because he spent a lot of time in here, it became his space bubble and we named him Astro-Boy.

Astro-Boy snuggling down

Shelby, (named for her tortoiseshell) was the most polite even at her age. She was the littlest of the lot and instantly charmed me with her manners, which was absolutely absent in the others. She spoke in a refined gentle mew.

Shelby with her bed-head

Hillary & Astro at litter-box training class

Hillary, named after Sir Edmund Hillary- she quickly found her fame as The Climber- scaling me with her sharp claws at every opportunity. It is good to know that at some time in my life I was someone's Everest! We nicknamed her Hilly.

Mulan- the fierce fighter always in the forefront of action and attack. Her war cry was formidable for one so little and even though she was at feet level, you couldn't ignore her conversations with you. We called her Mu-mu for short and she fast became my favourite when her had fought her imaginary battles for the day and was more settled and quiet.

We'd hardly gotten over the first few humps when Astro-Boy and Selby took a dive. We had no way of knowing how long they had been able to feed from their mother before they were separated from her. The early days of feeding from their mother, or absence thereof, would have somewhat sealed a large part of their fate in whatever strengthening of their immune system they could garner. At only five weeks old, facing the world alone was a battleground of unknown proportions.

Astro-Boy: Why don't they look like me?

And fight the battle we did, which meant 3-hourly feeds to keep them hydrated as dehydration leads them to the end very quickly. Spending that much time with them and having them rely on you so totally, you come to know them so well and forge a special bond.

And I'm not even particularly fond of cats- I keep saying. We didn't grow up with cats and Mum used to wrinkle her nose if any homeless scruffy kittens or cats tried to sidle up to us at the wet market when we were kids.

With the little ones so vulnerable, you have a chance to discover the infinity of your heart. Before long, they are nestled in your every breath. When I had to leave them sometimes to grab a meal at the coffee shop nearby, I could still hear their little cries echoing as if they were only nearby. Almost surreal and it feels as if you’re imagining things.

I sadly learnt that 'high mortality rate' meant more than a statistic. I lost the battle with Astro-Boy and Shelby. Why is it that when we do all that we can, we still feel a sense of failure? Where is it that we learn that we have to succeed in everything- if not we’re the Loser we fear to be. I think it mostly stems from the non-realization or non-acceptance of the simple reality that ultimately we could be the world’s greatest achiever but we don’t control the universe.
I let go quietly of my little two.

EEEEKS! What can I say???

Hilly and Mu-mu struggled with worms as their weight and strength plunged. I learnt that for the newborn, it's one of the top killers they face. Thankfully a visit to a very kind and warm vet set them right with deworming. When the worms were expelled, it was had to imagine that the little ones had played unwilling hosts to so many long squiggly ones inside, choking them and feeding off them, practically eating the life out of them.

who let the cats out of the bag?

My two have been with me for 4 weeks now taking turns requiring intensive home care as they struggled with their weak beginnings. Now Hilly has come back as The Climber she has always shown to be. She's full of life and curiosity!

Little Mu-mu, who matured overnight and stopped fighting for everything and became my special delight. She was showing her long-haired beauty and her huge manga eyes were captivating.

Mu-mu's manga eyes

Their health still hangs in some delicate balance unbeknown to me. I had heaved my sighs of relief and thought we'd past that stage. Then I almost lost Hilly and it seemed against all odds at that time but she pulled through. Now she's bursting with unrelentless energy and turns out as a blur in all my attempts at photographing her. Such an indescribable little joy to see her this way.

Hilly: My mum made me pose with this kid

Crab Island

Not being one to refuse a crustacean served on a platter, a trip to Pulau Ketam (that's Malay for Crab Island) promised an opportunity to indulge. What more motivation did I need to pack the overnight bag. With my visiting parents in tow, I pursued my next escape from the city.

Urban train routes are quite unlike their handsome cousins, the high streets running though towns, flanked by characteristic showpiece establishments- elegant and expensive dining and fashion shops, banks with names known by generations and generous landscaping.

the KTM Commuter train from the centre of KL out to Port Klang (one-way, one hour ride cost RM4.10)

The rail route which would take us out to the coast, stretched out along the least desirable pockets of real estate, opening up insights to the life of different norms and mores. Peeling backyard fences stand defensively with little of value to stand guard over, heaps and mounds of trash growing to keep the main streets beautiful, broken shanty towns of suffocating density and industrial wastelands playgrounds to children.

been there, done that. now abandoned

Boarding and alighting commuters provided a variety of entertainment and the hour on the train passed. I was happy to find out that the next ferry to the island was the slow, chugging wooden variety and not the sleek fiberglass craft that would have taken half the time to reach our destination. This was already the beginning of the enjoyment of the escape and speed had little to offer.

First things first on boarding the wooden ferry. Best to get a seat where the route to leaving the ferry is least obstructed. Being the first to alight was not important but rather if an unfortunate incident were to happen, we might best be able to leave the craft quickly and smoothly. Preoccupied with safety, I was glad to be able to locate the life jackets. Walking up for a closer look at the jackets tied to the ceiling, I visually examined how they were secured. No point having them if you can’t get to use them when needed. My mild paranoia is fed by incidences of ferry sinkings and the staunch practice of non-maintainance in our host country.

Pulau Ketam hosts a population of about 8,000 supported by fishing. Entire villages are built on stilts over the mangrove which covers 80% of the island.

wondering around along weather-worn wooden walkways and free-ranging dogs everywhere made my day

Like going back in time, motorised vehicles don’t exist here (well with the exception of the occasional motorized bicycle!). Getting around on foot or bicycle along wooden planked or concrete walkways provide a safe and relaxed environment and young children seem to be everywhere, cycling around on an errand or just cruising with friends way after dark. Simple elements that radically change how life is.

re-purposed plastic pails, jerry cans etc make interesting bicycle baskets

The dawn hours see a flurry of activity as the fishermen head out to sea trailed by flocks of sea birds sharing the same hopes.

local boatman deftly using the foot and leg

the island's powerhouse

long concrete walkways and houses on stilts strung out along river inlets

a commercial activity spied in alleys- shelling shrimp

the shrimp meat is sold separately from the shells which is sold to make shrimp stock for prawn noodle soup

a little island friend who accompanied us to dinner

wondering what else to do with your argyle socks? here the arm sock is a fashion statement!

a colorful wall mural flanking the entrance of one of the many temples on the island

the smell of salt in the air and the last crimson light,
a perfect close to a perfect day

Hope smiles!

Smile,
it is the key that fits the lock of everybody's heart. -Antony J. D'Angelo

Rescued animals are more often than not, scarred by their time on the streets, struggling to survive. This often leaves them psychologically and emotionally imprinted with fears of people, unforgiving elements in nature when they are without shelter and whatever else that may have caused them hurt as not many are sympathetic to strays. Their eyes tell stories of anxieties, fears and sadness.

Hope was withdrawn and quiet when we first met her. Perhaps with her disability, it was best for her to lie low and not draw attention to herself as she was really rendered vulnerable. For me, I looked forward to the day when she would feel secure enough to allow herself to express how she felt and to reach out.

Last week Hope smiled for the first time since we've known her!!

The next day she kept grinning! She doesn't do this all the time and not everyday. But we know now she's feeling different from before. When she greets me in the morning, she often pokes her paw out at me, making contact and getting my attention. She has started reaching out.

It's been one month and 10 days since Hope came to stay for home care and rehab and she's been the best company! Quiet and attentive, and always there!

I've begun to live my days in dog days- 7 dog days in one human calendar day (or something similar).So much to get done in a day and so much has happened each week.

In my last blog post on Hope, we were concentrating on strengthening her front legs with the wheelbarrow walk. She could only drag her hind legs. She hunched over her front legs and walked with difficulty as her front legs were not accustomed to bearing her weight.

That was three weeks ago.

With baby steps forward week by week and an unfailing routine of physiotherapy and exercise helped with lots of fun and motivation, we watched for every little sign that might indicate that her nerves were reconnecting. Her hind leg reflexes are now strong and obvious, where before it was so difficult to detect, we had to ask ourselves if we were imagining it. We needed to see if she had a sense of her hind legs and if she had voluntary control of them.

Hope can now stand in a stationary position on all four legs without any assistance for almost half a minute. She's now a runaway wheelbarrow as her front legs have really strengthened and she gets impatient with her hind leg exercises!

It's time to make changes to her routine to speed healing and recovery. Previously we worked on the Passive Range of Motion exercises (PROM) as she was mostly lying down all the time. Now she's gained muscle tone in all four legs, a sense of well-being, confidence and she's ready to take on a change.

The vet visited her last week and for the first time, she showed a distinct pain reaction in her left hind legs which is the most affected limb. This is the sign we've been hoping for as it indicates some nerve connection and that the function of her limbs are connected to the brain.

Hope getting lots of rest between her daily full exercise schedule!

Besides her PROM, her new Physical Therapy (PT) routine now includes the Active Joint Range of Motion exercises to increase joint mobility, flexibility, strengthen muscles, enhance conditioning and endurance and weight-bearing ability. With support groups, forums and many kind and helpful people out there who are also struggling with the wellness of their paralyzed companion animal and willing to share what they are doing, I've picked up accupressure techniques from video instructions. Hope gets her massages three times a day but don't for a moment envie her.

Again with shared information on the net, I found a design for a cart which would suit Hope's current disability and necessary PT routine. Two women, H and A. who were also involved in Hope's rescue off the streets, spent an afternoon, taking time off from work to help me put the cart together, not to mention them also sourcing for the materials beforehand.

The Hope Mobile - the sling is still being modified

The cart has taken Hope's PT one level up. With her supported in the cart, we're able to work on more exercises properly than if I were to juggle supporting her and working with her on her active PT.

With the cart we can now work more on proprioceptive exercises. Proprioception is the sense which detects limb position. Also weight shifting exercises so that Hope's walk will be more balanced as it seems like her left side is more affected by her injury. Ambulation exercises in the cart has her in a more correct posture than the wheelbarrow and they are helping to re-educate her how to walk all over again.

In time to come when she's more confident in the cart and when her legs are strogn enough, she'll learn to move around in her cart. Currently we're mostly using it for physical therapy.

Hope holding a more natural posture in her sling

The best thing after a full day's work!

Hope is like a road in the country;
there was never a road, but
when many people walk on it,
the road comes into existence. Lin YuTang

126 Dog Days

ago, Hope came to stay with us for home care. That's about 18 human days and in reality, seems a lot longer. It's hard to imagine another dimension of time superimposed on our dimension of time. As it is, so many people pack more than they can in a 24-hour day. What is it like to have 7 dog hours in 1 human hour??!!

Hope was lightly sedated for her transfer and delivered in a HUGE box. Here's the kicker- pets are not allowed in our condominium! but as it were, Hope has the perfect profile (at least for this situation)- she makes no noise and doesn't run around! Nonetheless those were some nervous moments!

Hope where she can see me most of the time. Rearranging furniture for Hope's space

I was fortunate that her caregivers before me had already worked out a daily routine which I could more or less follow and it looked easy enough from what they had shared with me. Of course it's easy to think you know everything just with knowledge and forget that it's experience that really counts in the end! I quickly found out that though I had the strength to lift Hope to take her for the 5-a-day pit stops, I didn't have the fitness required to lift her weight. By the end of the first week I felt like I had been moving house, shifting countless boxes!! Other things we do a lot more of include mopping and laundry!

It was time to institute some discipline or suffer more! And Discipline's not my personal favourite challenge. Learning to lift Hope the correct way and getting back to a routine with yoga for stretches and strengthening the muscles. I also reckon that if you're trying to do some good for a cause but don't do any good for the self then there's something here that's amiss and in the longer run, doesn't work out to be very constructive.

Hope in her morning sun spot by the balcony

why do you have to do what you do?
Hope's thinking, watching me do the yoga routine

Treats to keep her stimulated and occupied and just enjoying Life -
one milk ice treat each afternoon to beat the sweltering heat

I make her a frozen milk treat which she gets each day. Just simple enjoyment and stimulation.

Surely the soul can hardly heal the body if it does not taste the joy of Life.

Today I baked liver biscuits. Hard ones to keep the teeth clean, burn some time and also a new treat to reward her for her exercise routine which is gradually being stepped up. Only they look like brown hershey kisses thingees and not really the best subject for a photo! But Hope only cares about the important details.

I'm done with the milk ice, now what? - taking comfort in her favourite Grumpy cushion

the wheelbarrow walk using a towel sling 4 times a day
(to the duration of 2 Barry White songs!) to maintain forelegs flexibility and strength

We do a half hour of PROM (Passive Range of Motion) exercises twice a day for all four legs. This involves passive flexion, extension and light massage of the muscles to enhance blood circulation, prevent muscle contracture and maintain flexibility. We do daily sit-to-stand exercises and her hind legs seem to be getting stronger, where previously her hind leg muscles had severely atrophied and were totally limp. Now Hope is able to bear her own weight on her hind legs for a tiny little 8 seconds each time. I know it's really little but it means a lot right now from what we first began with. Hope is also getting more active as I get her to scoot on her butt to get to her food dish. It's sometimes difficult and pulls at the heart strings watching her do it, like watching a stroke patient learning to walk, but I'm hoping it will unwire any learned helplessness she might have acquired. She shows interest in trying to move around but sometimes gets overwhelmed by the effort required.

In a couple of days when her pressure sores have just about shrunk to a smaller spot, we'll be trying on her baby plastic pants which will help protect her bony butt and cut the friction so she can scoot around on her butt.

the similarity amuses us!

A well-wisher brought Hope her favourite Grumpy cushion which has proven most useful and comfortable, much like a travel wraparound-the-neck cushion. Hope spends hours hugging it in some kind of affiliation.

Bali Kakiang

I have some memories of my maternal grandfather but I was too young to really have known him. In my child's memory, he seemed like a kind and quiet man. Perhaps he brought us little gifts and small toys when he visited us.

Bali Kakiang (Kakiang means Grandpa in the local Balinese dialect) was probably the closest thing I came to knowing a grandfather and at best, it was still distant.

This painting I passed several times in a shop window on my last trip to Bali.
It reminded me of Kakiang and how he would look on his way home at the end of the day.
The dead and dried coconut palm leaf stems were collected for firewood as
most of the villagers in our village still cooked with firewood.

It now hangs on the wall where I sit every day at my desk in front of the lap top,
bringing back rich memories that reside in the heart.

Language and a whole different life separated us and few words passed between us. But that didn't prevent us from sharing moments that needed few words. We sometimes sat in silence over a mug of coffee, always sitting on the floor as is the normal Balinese practice, or by the reflective fish pond in the garden when he dropped by, always unannounced like a ghost. Some early mornings when the day has already begun for the farmers but hardly anyone else is stirring, we'd stand together and nod our agreement and approval on inspecting a healthy growing shrub or the moss-covered Balinese stone carved guardians at the front gate.

Other times we'd be running out of the house and shouting in alarm and frantically waving our arms to attract Kakiang's attention and screaming for him to be careful as he steadfastly climbed his wobbly bamboo ladder up a fruit tree to pick the harvest that was nestled 20 meters above. Mostly he ignored us or irritably grunted something I had no way of understanding. His bent-double form, inching up the tree, slowly but surely. A rest day simply didn't exist in his life. Some mornings we'd wake and find a freshly picked ripe lush papaya laid at our doorstep or a newspaper bundled treasure of sweet potato, damp earth still clinging to the roots.

It was Kakiang who conducted the prayers and blessing for the house when we first moved in as he was the land owner. His daughter-in-law all dressed in her traditional finery, was in attendance. Half way through the solemn ceremony, her mobile rang and it was a comical sight to watch her groping around in her kebaya top where she had stashed it away. Not for a moment was Kakiang distracted from his important task.

When I moved out of Bali just over a year ago, I said my goodbyes but never really knowing whether Kakiang understood what I tried to say to him. Half a year later he passed away, not surviving a road accident while walking home one evening on the street where I used to live.

Kakiang on a mission.
It's not apparent, but he's already ascended about 25 feet up this tree

Another painting by the same young artist which I absolutely had to have. The artist's commentary is that man is very much an animal himself, like the other animals. In fact, animals show/keep their color but a man is ever ready to change his color like the chameleon.

Intoxicated

Intoxicated by the wine of Life
impalpable cocoon of stillness.
nectar coursing through the labyrinth of veins.
eyelids laced with webs of dreams
layer upon layer,
emerging from the vortex of night
to meet the glittering necklace of dawn.

(12 May 08, Bali)

braving the high altitude cold morning air,
we perched at the rim of the crater waiting for first light- photo taken with KC

Too long since we've been away.
We returned to Bali last week, the second time in the last two months after being away for over a year. Our return was met by friends who welcomed us like long lost siblings. It was nothing short of a home-coming everyone wishes for. Re-visiting our secret retreats, the soul and every breath defined infinitude.
We headed straight for the hills to what had been our last home in the small village of Junjungan, just north of Ubud.

The absence of excessive man-made pollution- of air, noise, light, infrastructure, was striking. The morning air, crystal clear, wrapped every space in a palace of silence. Night-cloaked country roads devoid of street lamps lit only by the love language of the ephemeral fireflies. The night skies, bejeweled with stars, beckoned us to wake and drink in the heavens. The tapestry of green- padi fields herringbone stitched with towering coconut palms and embroidered with nameless wild flora soothed the eyes like summer rain.

Life simplified, without distractions, without clutter, leaving only the unadulterated taste of Life. Sated with the good life, this is my Rasa Tanah.

the lotus beauty graces our pond at home; the silent temple guardian

the canopy of cerulean skies; a wandering fragrant frangipani floating in my pool

the proliferate bamboo; view from the bedroom as dawn breaks over the tree tops

toiling marks every day of the calendar in our village;
this always takes my breath away- majestic towering volcanos and cascading terraces
(the view from around the corner from where we used to work)



magnificence mirrored