Rescue 911

Saturday,
August 11, 2007.
Around 9:30pm.

The day after we rescued BamBam from under Jake's car.
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Operator: "911, what's your emergency?"
Me: "Uh, my kitten fell into a ditch and she can't climb back out. She's trying to but she just falls back into the water every time."
Operator: "How deep is the water, Ma'am?"
Me: "Water? Uhm, maybe just around an inch or two. It didn't rain today. But the ditch is around 14 or 15 feet deep with concrete walls that go straight down on either side."
Operator: "Okay. What is your exact location?"
Me: "1234 Forest Hills, Banawa."
Operator: ("All units, we have a 321* over at 1234 Forest Hills, Banawa. Victim may have sustained injuries due to the fall, possible hypothermia...") "A rescue unit is on the way, Ma'am. How long has your kitten been down there?"
Me: "I don't know... she was already in there when we arrived. She's huddled in a corner now meowing... probably cold and exhausted. I just adopted her a couple of days ago and she's sick and thin and we're still trying to nurse her back to health." ("It's okay, BamBam. Help is on the way. You'll be out of there soon. Just hang on.")
Operator: "Okay, Ma'am. Just keep talking to her and keep her calm. The rescue team should be there soon."

(SIRENS BLARING IN THE DISTANCE GETTING CLOSER AND CLOSER)

Me: "I hear them." ("You hear that, Bam? Help is almost here. You'll be okay.") "Thank you."

click
END OF CALL

*Writer's Note: 321 = rescue code for "a kitten has fallen into a 15-foot ditch with 1-2 inches of water in it and can't climb back out"

Is It Luck or Divine Intervention?

It was around dinnertime a couple of weeks ago when Jake pulled up into his usual parking space right outside my room. His engine revved up one last time then sputtered off into silence. A car door opened and thudded shut, then footsteps echoed as Jake leisurely walked down the cemented driveway to the front door.

Attracted by the noise, the two resident dogs Imang and Mickey came to investigate with their usual boundless energy. They gave a short burst of playful barks then got busy sniffing the now silent Nissan Sentra. Nothing out of the ordinary was taking place that night; this was pretty much S.O.P. for these two K9 wannabees. Then Mickey suddenly gave a loud yelp of surprise.

A small furry head with one eye had appeared from the depths of Jake's car and was now floating above the right rear tire. Two tiny paws frantically clawed their way out as the dogs began to jump up and down barking with excitement at the new "toy" they had found. As I rushed out of my room to see what was causing the commotion, I heard a high-pitched petrified voice ring out in the night. "Meooow!"

It was a sick and very scared kitten lost in a strange new place. It jumped off the tire, sat under the trunk and called out to its mommy one more time. I bent down and called back. It lifted itself off the ground and sniffed in my direction. Then its meowing became quicker and more urgent as it took a couple of steps forward. I could now see that it was very young, and its left eye was swollen shut with yellow green gunk smearing down its cheek. But it fearlessly ambled towards me and butted its head in greeting against my outstretched hand.

That was how I found my new baby, BamBam.

In the days that followed, BamBam would go through a couple more experiences that would make it either the luckiest cat alive or God's most favorite cat. But those two stories deserve a blog of their own.

Squeak!

When the cat is away...

I finally caught the pesky mouse that's been climbing up my tables and hiding in my closets and leaving a trail of God knows what that's been driving me crazy for the past weeks. Well, mice, actually. There are two of them. Two tiny little filthy mice. And I mean filthy in the literal sense.

Now I have to figure out how to get rid of these two. They are cute and furry, after all. Wide-eyed and innocent-looking. If only they didn't chew through my extension wires and leave bacteria-ridden poop and pee all around, I'd probably consider keeping them. But I really have to figure out how to dispose of these mice now. Can't throw them outside, they'll just waltz right back in. Can I drown them? Would that be considered as cruelty to animals? Filthy, disgusting, disease-carrying mice are still animals, aren't they?

It's things like this that make me miss Scraggy even more. I didn't have to worry about rodents and their rights as animals until now. When Scraggy whacked them, it was just part of the food chain. And then there are the creepy spiders that I am afraid of. Scraggy used to take care of those for me, too. But that's a whole different story.

That Monday

"See you later, Scrag. Have fun!" I said to her that Monday morning on my way out to work. She was outside my window taking a morning nap. I lightly scratched behind her ear as she turned her head up towards me.

I knew what her day was going to be like. Frolicking in the grass, sleeping on the terrace, playing with her Mommy and Poppy, patrolling around the fence, and maybe even catching an insect or two (hopefully not a lizard). I took to work with me the image of her sleeping under my window in the soft morning sun.

I got home from work late that afternoon. Usually, Scraggy runs up to meet me as I enter the gate. That day, she did not. It was already time for her dinner and I knew she'd be hungry, so I called out her name. She didn't come. I walked to the backyard thinking, "She's probably stalking some poor lizard again." But she wasn't there.