Cats who teach me to fly…

Over the years, Bob has been abandoned by his families due to relocating homes, repeatedly moving from family to family. 

Bob is a super handsome, tabby orange cat with a shiny coat. Very often I wanted to bring him home. Upon seeing how well he adapted to living on the streets, I decided to let him be where he wanted to be.

However, everything changed about two months ago when Bob was injured. He was limping severely, and I thought  he had fractured his foot. After taking him to the vet, we discovered he had a deep, infected wound. I brought him home to nurse him back to health, and once he fully recovered, we put him up for adoption.

We eventually met his new “Dad” at a pet expo adoption drive and he fell in love with him. It took about a month for the adopter to get his flat ready for Bob. Finally we moved Bob in two days ago. Bob adapted well in his new environment.

The photo below was taken at his new home.

No more moving from house to house for Bob. We look forward to visiting him in a few weeks to see how he’s settling in.

I picked up my AirPods and tucked them into my ears. I chose the most relaxing way to travel. The small micro kick scooter made it perfect.

I fell in love with the song “Tell Me You Love Me” from the Korean drama. With the music in my ears, I started to scoot. I wasn’t trapping myself inside rhythm. I was aware of the world around me.

I saw birds trying to scoop water from an empty bowl I had left out. I quickly took a bottle and filled it. Watching them quench their thirst made me smile.

The music continued to play. Yes, there was an ache. But the feeling was not mine, even though there were traces of calm. They were never mine. There is no “mine” to begin with. They were simply conditions arising. I wasn’t disturbed. Not even a trace of past memories appeared.

I have loved kick scooting since I was very young, and I still feel the same way. We grow old physically, but the mind always remains young.

I went to check on the cats whose food and shelter were thrown away recently. All looked well today. I did not feel contented. Things keep changing.

As I scooted on, I saw a purple heron. It was alone. Purple herons are solitary birds. Being able to be alone is good.

I went to my favourite vegetarian stall at the market. I ate what I always eat and left. With Chinese New Year approaching, the pasar malam stalls are back. They sell the same things every year. There is nothing new to look at. I kept listening to the music and scooted on.

Along the way, I met a resident in Whampoa. She asked me where all the cats were. I explained the situation. The cats are old. Many have died. Sterilisation has played a big part in managing the population. That is why we don’t see many cats now. I also told her that killings are still happening under NParks. Cats are still dying because of complaints. It only takes one complaint. I said it is better to keep things this way. Much consistent work has been done to keep the population low. She said she felt sad. I told her it had to be this way to prevent more unnecessary killing and suffering. She agreed.

I wished I could do something for her. But her sadness is not mine to carry. I can always smile at her when I see her.

What was different today was this: I hadn’t listened to music on my AirPods for a long time. I stopped because I didn’t want to drown myself in rhythm and invite old dramas back into the mind. And today, that didn’t happen at all.

2026 is shaping up better for both Mel and me. Over the past 12 years, we have managed the community cat populations carefully and responsibly. We successfully closed four feeding areas, not by abandoning the cats, but by taking them home once the numbers dropped below five. The only exceptions were Malcom Road and Thomson, where authorities were involved and we had to take in 20 cats at one go.

At Whampoa, where we are still feeding, more than two feeders are now involved. They deliberately feed at the exact time I do every night. After repeated disagreements, I decided to hand over full responsibility to them. That’s when they panicked.

They expected me to continue to rescue sick and injured cats, sterilising those who weren’t, and rehoming those who could be rehomed. In short, they wanted me to bring the cats home. Whenever a problem came up, they conveniently passed my contact to others instead of stepping up themselves.

Not long after the disagreement, an unsterilised cat was abandoned and another was hit by a car. Mel and I knew exactly what would happen, they wouldn’t lay a finger on the cats. One feeder would cry but do nothing, while another would pretend not to see. I was even questioned by the one who cried, asked whether I had a conscience and whether I truly loved the community cats. Ironically, she answered her own question.

Mel has always been supportive. We’re okay. We are still there every night, even when no cats are eating, just to make sure the cats are safe. When the time is right, Mel and I will leave.

Over the years, the community cats we took in have grown old. Many have passed on. It’s not just the community cat population that is now under control, the number of cats in our home has also decreased. The numbers are still high, but they are much better compared to five years ago.

For the first time, Mel and I can see our savings again. Yes, it’s time to talk about retirement. We’re tired. We still take responsibility, and we still give our best. We just hope we live long enough to see all of them through.

About half of my cats at home are above eight-years-old this year. It’s challenging. Just like humans, the older they get, the more health issues appear. We’re expecting higher medical costs, and we’re grateful to have Dr Anu’s support, not in terms of bills, but guidance and advice.

I’ve been surrounded by cats all these years. If you ask me what the new year feels like, I’d say this: it is bearing fruit. The same goes for my spiritual path, results don’t come quickly, but they do come after sustained effort.

There were no candles, no cakes, no “Happy Birthday” signs, just food to make the day special for the cats and for myself.

This year, I decided to cook instead of buying cakes, which I’ve done for the past twelve years. I wanted to stick to a budget. Pet cakes are getting more expensive and smaller every year. They’re starting to feel like the vegan cakes from Delcie’s, tiny, pricey, and honestly a little heartbreaking.

So what did I cook for the cats? Tuna, mackerel, salmon, chicken, and prawn. Yes, it’s sinful for a vegan but a real feast for the cats. That’s what they eat.

There’s this little paw that says, “I can’t wait.” That’s Xiao Ted, trying to pull the bowl down. He’s an all-time good boy.

That mischievous face belongs to Mongal.

Soon, everyone had their faces buried in the plates. I couldn’t even see their eyes. They finally stopped after the second serving, and I was glad there was only a little food left. That told me they’d had more than enough. And what comes after a good meal? Food coma.

The community cats aren’t used to home-cooked food, so they had their usual meal instead.

It was a simple Christmas Eve and a normal Christmas Day for me. Maybe next year, the cats will have both a cake and cooked food. I think that would be nice.

I attended Ajahn Viradhammo’s two-day stay-out retreat last Monday and Tuesday at Kong Meng Shan. In the past, I was always filled with enthusiasm and made sure to be punctual for every talk. Even after sleeping late, I would wake early to prepare for the day and stay punctual.

Lately, however, things seem to have cooled down. I have stopped “chasing” the Dhamma. Due to my current circumstances, I am only able to attend the afternoon sessions. I no longer find myself laughing at the questions raised by the attendees, nor do I concern myself with whether the answers given are correct or appropriate. All I want to do is sit and meditate.

Kong Meng Shan is the only place that allows me to join the talks at a later time. Other venues do not, and I am at peace with that.

There is another talk by Ajahn Sucitto next Monday at the same location, and I plan to attend. I love meditation. Immediately after lunch, I returned to the hall to meditate. I am not afraid of drowsiness. In fact, one of the fastest ways to train the mind is through a drowsy mind.

My time spent on suttas and meditation has decreased, but the Dhamma now lives within me. Everything is cooling down naturally, without effort.

Life goes on, and I am living much like everyone else. The difference is that there is more restraint, the mind is stiller, and my time is spent in a meaningful way.