Pages from My Diary

"Will my cat live?" The question haunted me for two fresh weeks not long ago. My cat Timmy was only three months old, and one day mom woke up and found him lying on the sofa with a high fever. I panicked. The last sick cat of mine had died. Was the same going to happen to him? You might think, "this girl is weird! The cats needed a vet that's it." But no, that's NOT it. I'll tell you why. I took my cat to the nearest hospital, which is the only public hospital and also the biggest one in Bangladesh (that's where I live). After seeing the cat for the first time (he had a fever of 105 degrees), the vet declared that he won't live. I was crestfallen. But then he said that he had a vaccine that he would inject, but all we could was pray! "Just once? Don't we have to continue it or something?" I asked him. "Do us, humans take medicine everyday?" he seemed to mock my words. I was so mad that I wanted to slap him hard...

I never imagined I'd write such a post ever in my life. Being so optimistic and positive about all the things in my life, a thought of such an incident never crossed my mind. 11 March, 2011. My only cat Mini gave birth to three kittens. At first we were worried. We had never thought of raising one cat, and had been gifted with four! The cats grew up, and filled our life with many colorful memories. They were pretty healthy, except for occasional sickness, such as cold. They would sneeze for a day or two, then they came round again. Our fears started to peak when all three of the babies got some sort of diarrhoea. We don't live in a very well developed country, so having very good vets and good treatment is actually far beyond our imagination. But still my dad went to this local hospital and asked a vet what could be done about this. That moron suggested that the cats be given human medicines, and told him that there was no alternative. That night we tried a lot to forc...