these old ladies, so cute you gotta love them

*Wendy* the functioning schizophrenic and *Maggie* her senile partner in crime rescued an injured cat during one of their nightly feeds. The tom got better and Wendy decided to keep it but wouldn’t sterilise because she felt he might have too weak a constitution to survive it.

The tom thanked her by turning his full libidinous and destructive nature on - copulating with her young kittens causing a miscarriage, launching bloodbaths on her other cats and he sprayed, everywhere.

After the umpteenth inconveniently-timed call from Wendy to lament about how much stress the cat is causing her and looping labyrinthian arguments about whether to sterilise the cat or not, the woman decided to cut Wendy short on one of her voluble and outrageous wall of consciousness monologues. She hung up.

Her colleagues were momentarily confused. Didn’t the woman tell them she didn’t have kids? She was all “Are you listening? I am going to hang up now if you aren’t listening. When you are ready to listen, then call me back.”

It worked. When Wendy called back, she was considerably calmer. She paid attention and finally agreed for the woman to come collect the cat for sterilisation. They did have one problem, the cat was so hostile he wouldn’t let anyone near him.

The cat trapper was called in and Wendy annoyed him by telling him that if she couldn’t catch him, he couldn’t. And she wouldn’t let them move any of her mountainous possessions that clutter all available space in the flat. She simply wouldn’t shut up. All the while, the cat teased us by darting from one victorian knick-knacks nook to ethnic trinkets cranny.

The woman had to be bad mammy again. “The trapper can’t work if you keep talking. Go to the back room and sit there. Don’t come out until the cat is trapped.” “But…” “Hupp, go back”. She did as she was told.

It took the trapper, the trapper assistant and the woman one hour to get that delinquent cat with the help of a torch, a net and 2 of Wendy's Indonesian decorative poles. Every time Wendy sneaked out, the woman went ‘Hupp, back.” She trotted back. These old ladies, they can be so… cute.

Before they left, she gave them one of her Christmas trinkets with thanks, - a porcelain cat sitting on a gift box.

perils of a chain smoker

woman hears about an old feeder in the neighbourhood who chain smokes with cats in the apartment. apparently she will not open a single window in the apartment for a variety of reasons.

this news comes from *Wendy* who knows her from their nightly rounds to feed strays. she wants the woman to mesh up the old feeder’s windows to let in a little air for the cats. that is the easy part. convincing the old feeder is quite another matter.

for a start, the old feeder sounds like your typical hardnosed, mistrustful, paranoid, cranky old woman. when wendy brought up the issue to her, she burned her bridges and slammed the door on her long time friend. and then there is wendy herself, who is working herself into a relapse. she is extremely agitated, constantly calling and smsing the woman to belabour her few circular points. i. "the cats are going to die" ii. "the old feeder is crazy" iii. "you must help" iv. "the cats are going to die" v. "the old feeder is crazy"... you get the picture.

there is no walking away from this, of course. what is the worst that can happen? the old feeder will wreck the door slamming it and wendy will scream blue murder that the woman did not follow her precise instructions to the tee. can't be worse than not trying.


even without smoke, we can't imagine closing a single window at our place!

3am call; foster needed

our eccentric neighbour *Wendy* woke us up with a 3am call railing about how her cats are giving her so much stress she is going nuts. in her unkind 3am 'you woke me up for that?!' state, the woman felt that NUTS was the operative word here...

against our advice, Wendy took in one more cat over the 3 she already has in the flat causing one of her existing ones to picket in protest by spraying her furniture any chance it got. at first, Wendy was appealing for the woman to take her offending cat in in hopes that we can toilet train before returning to her. but the cat is not losing its toilet training by accident here. as long as the new cat is in the flat, she is going to be upset and act up.

the woman's advice for Wendy is to give up one of the cats and is actively looking for a loving and patient foster right now who can give this distressed cat a break.
_____________________

this and the case of the old hoarder lady really drive home the fact that more needs to be done for our old and alone. and not just to provide the basics like food, hygiene and shelter. their solitary lifestyles give them no release for their stress and grief and the result is an inward imploding state and a string of irrational bad decisions. gone on long enough, any well-meaning people who want to help can do little more than wade through their woolly self-seeking obstinacy to an uneasy friendship that is frustrating for both parties.

the question the woman would like to ask is, is there a way back from where Wendy and the old lady have wandered?

cleaning out the old hoarder lady's roach-infested cabinet the other day, the woman came across all her old photos, all smeared with roach droppings, and sees a life full of potential, with people, family and events. the old lady was anxious to remind the volunteers not to throw them away. so they are cleaned and stored, all these imprints of people that are no longer there. there was a full-colour laminated A4 photoshop-ed poster of the old lady and her 2 dogs which seemed recent. the old lady told her it was done by friends, but they no longer come to visit.

in the process of cleaning and painting the old lady's flat, the woman has seen both the soft and the cold mercenary side of the old lady, been exceedingly frustrated and been touched. the way forward is still fraught with uncertainties but the transformation of the flat has motivated the old lady to try in her own small ways to maintain it that way. she is also more willing to listen to the volunteers' suggestions and to let go of some of her animals. the woman hopes in her heart that this progress will not be undone by them becoming yet another collection of friends who no longer come to visit.


the woman wonders how many of us would turn out like this? the statistics on the solitary elderly and the mentally volatile are certainly against us.

the best counters the woman can think of are to build up our networks while we can, keep akin to this changing world, and break our hard habit for the material. in the old lady's cabinet are bags, jewelery, liquor, ginseng and clothes from all eras. they probably meant something at some point. now all they do is clog up her world and her mind with their irrelevance.

kooky squinty cutie

these are *Wendy*'s kitties who're off to the vet today to be fixed. the kooky squinty one in the front greets the woman at the door by rolling over and arching her bum up. so you are the one calling the toms around from a 5-mile radius.

normally, the woman puts cats scheduled for sterilisation in cages on a trolley and wheels them to the vet who is about 15 minutes away. today, she sees the 2 cats are pretty light and decides to take the short cut along the canal with the 2 cats in the one carrier, a route she normally takes on the return journey empty-handed. anyone could have told her it is an incredibly stupid idea lugging the cats this way when the ground is sloped some of the ways and there are 2 low rails to climb over. but no, she only realises her folly when the carrier starts to get excruciatingly heavy to throw off counterbalancing on the steep section and it is as impossible going forward as it is going back. with no choice but to press on, she grits it and finally emerges on the other side unscathed. you know you are this close to being a cat killer, you stupid woman.

woman normally cabs the return journey after the surgery to give the cats a break and to get them settled in comfortably as soon as possible. but today, she loses her keys in the cab and locks them all out of the house for over an hour until the man comes to the rescue, once again, proving herself worthy of the Bonehead-Of-The-Day Award (standing ovation).

so what's normal?

the woman has been trying to arrange for a home visit with the Family Service to our schizophrenic(?) neighbour for some time now but the time the social worker does come down, they find *Wendy* not home. the neighbour says she found work.

the next day, Wendy calls the woman to ask if she told the neighbour anything about her, not to do it, as they will use the information against her. it is another one-sided conversation. the woman manages to interject enough to ask if she and the man can visit her some time.

so it comes to be that in the evening, the man and woman make their way to Wendy's. without back up. with much trepidation.

Wendy welcomes them warmly and immediately, the man and woman know they have been acting like fools.

two beautiful cats greet them at the door. big shining eyes and gorgeous gleaming coats. one white and orange. one with the same colour and markings as leukemia.

the cats lounge content in the 'garden' that stretches from the front door into the apartment, amidst a botanical spectacle of luscious, robust potted plants that culminates at a fish pond with a fountain spring. birdcages with faux birds and little trinkets inside hang decorative from the ceiling.

Wendy's home is similarly bedecked with a myriad ornaments and curiosities in soft warm light. Wendy's taste is decidedly english. there are oil portraits, victorian-inspired cushions and lampshades and a million cat and dog figurines. worn and cluttered, it is strangely attractive with a soothing lavender scent.

Wendy shows them pictures of her dogs, a golden retriever and a collie, who lived to 12 and 14 respectively and died in her arms. she talks about her cats, her plants, never once mentions the spy-hole in the wall that she said she would show the woman when she comes.

after they leave, the man wonders if the woman will be like that one day with her knickknacks, her disdain for the apathy in the world and her obsession with nature and animals. yep, who knows. for now, it is all they can do to look in on Wendy once in a while, because maybe one day, when they need it, someone might look in on them.

possible blood on our hands

oh no. one of the community cat feeders that the woman has befriended tells her her cats are sick and having diarrhea. as she is unemployed she asks if the woman has any medication on hand as she cannot afford to bring them to the vet. the woman gives her some kaolin.

the feeder is in her 50s and lives on her own in a top floor extended corner unit. before she was unemployed, she was a secretary. she has family at Upper Bukit Timah. her english is above average. the woman presumes she is temporarily down on her luck. and lonely. whenever they encounter each other, the feeder will be so happy for company that she will talk at length about her life and her cats.

then yesterday, she shows up at our door to ask for more medication. her gushing chatter turns into a monologue and then the most bizarre tirade. she says her ground floor neighbour is in cohorts with her top floor neighbour to humiliate her. she says her neighbour has drilled a hole into her living room to spy on her. she asks the woman to help her write her story to the press about the time when her neighbour's maid, a vampire, bit her but the police covered up all the evidence and put her in jail instead.

oh my god. they believe the feeder is having a schizophrenic episode. so now, the man and woman are not sure her cats are sick in the first place or she even have cats at all or dead cats (by now).

stupid. they should have gone to take a look in the first instance before giving away medicine. but typical Singaporean mentality - they didn't want to be too involved in their neighbour's life. their goodwill stops at hellos and inane banter.

the woman calls the Institute of Mental Health to see if they can send someone to check on whether the feeder is a hazard to herself. now that they know she is not right in the head, they are periodically observing her apartment from downstairs and see flickering candlelight in an otherwise dark apartment. IMH refers them to the police.

yesterday, the officer says they work closely with the Resident's Committee. they will check on her and if something is amiss, they will get a doctor in to assess her. today, they change their story. only if her conduct is considered a public nuisance will they send someone up to check on her. otherwise, she is her family's responsibility.

so suspect flickering candle not police responsibility. building burns down then it is police responsibility.

the woman's next avenue is Family Centre. hopefully she will get a more decent response. of course, the woman can always go check on the feeder herself but she doesn't have that kind of guts.