I finally felt the power of love today.

It is immense. It is powerful.

My hand was smeared with blood. The blood of my friend.



The blood that filled his mouth as his wails echoed and amplified under my void deck.

The three policemen saw me from far as I brisk-walked with clenched fists, Tharik trailing off behind, unable to match my speed.

I didn’t even had the time to look at them. I saw my friend on the floor.

Bleeding. Wet from the rain. Wailing.

I dropped my phone and book onto the floor and everyone watched as I held my friend close to me. He knew I was there - he buried his head in my elbow.

He knew it. They saw it. None of them ever expected anyone could be so in love with their friend. I held him close. I whispered to him. I went down on the floor for him.

Even though “it’s just a cat”.

We got it to the vet in that cold twilight. I kept my hand on its back, my thumb rubbing the rims of his ears. Then he changed position, trying to lay on his back, just as he would do when I’m showing my love to him.

But then he wailed again. His legs twisted in odd positions. His hands were in a mess as well. I knew this was bad. I didn’t need three policemen to tell me that.



The vet got him on the table. Blood was smeared on my hands. Tharik and Henry stood in the back being rude by poking fun at things.

I was angry. I was grieving. I was sad. This could not be happening.

But he knew i was there - he buried his head in my elbow again, trying to endure the pain... lots of it.

The doctor ran me a list of things. They were not pleasant:
Three legs severely fractured.
A torn lip.
Entire upper set of teeth broken off.
Ruptured bladder, blood was oozing out of his penis.
Possible internal bleeding.

I saw them injecting liquids into my mangled friend. His smell was all over me. I remember back under my block someone had supposedly left some rice for him to eat. But shouldn’t rice be white? The rice was yellow-red.



We left him at the vet for them to check. They said they’d put him under watch for a couple of days… and IF his metabolism was fine… only THEN would they do a surgery on his legs… since a cast would only be useless.

I was asked what I wanted; sent to hospital or leave it to the vet.

“Surgery would, of course, cost quite a lot.”

I was stern – I want my friend to be sent to the best hospital we can get. No matter the cost.

"Hospital, right away!"

I was angry. I was grieving. I was pissed mad. I felt like I had to blame someone. I felt like I had to wage war on someone. I felt like I had to do something in revenge.



But, no. It’s nothing. I can’t do anything. I can’t find anything. I’m helpless. My friend is lying in the cage, wailing as he accidentally sits on his right hind leg – the most damaged of all. I remember it twisting into odd positions as they carried him. It was time to leave. I went up to the cage, rested my forehead on the columns as I waited to say my goodbyes…. But it was useless; his head was turned away. The painkiller has got to him.



I spent the night having dinner with Tharik and Henry. I expected some sort of support. But they were too engrossed in soccer. Too engrossed in empty-talks. Too engrossed with anything that concerns them.

I walked Henry home. Maybe something can be salvaged.

But it seems like soccer was the big thing. A weak, mourning friend walking with heavy steps was trivial compared to a sport happening halfway round the world, it seems.

Four hours have passed. I haven’t bathed. I haven’t changed. I’m still in my John Little uniform. The smell of my cat – it’s blood, saliva and dirt – is still strong. I’m trying to sleep. But I can’t. Wasn’t he supposed to be beside me under the sheets, under my arms?

A big part of me says “this is the end.” And I truly believe it so.
But still... a little shining star beckons me to think there might still be a chance….



This is what I smsed Henry after I got home, lying on my bed:

“… (in reply to him saying everything will be fine).. entire upper teeth broken off, ruptured bladder, doctor saying he cant do anything except wait and only IF he’s fine inside only then can they do the legs. How can anyone say that is fine? He will never be the same again. I’m not upset. I’m near-mourning! I don’t have anything else for emotional support. I’m losing it. I’m losing it, Henry.”