Zambia has a minion!

Cuddle the Onqindishnal

~Story~

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The stories that we remember best are the stories that we make ourselves. A childhood memory, a recollection of a friendship or things that have touched us. This is going to be one of those stories, one I hold very close to my heart. It all begins with two little kittens.When I was eleven years old my family moved from Scotland to Zambia, quite the culture difference but one I was used to as I had previously lived in Africa. However, this time I was old enough to sit up and take notice of things. It was frustrating as a child to see so many children like myself with so little, I wanted to be able to help this place in some way, any way.

Not long after we had settled into our new house, there came a knock on the door. My mother grumbled rather loudly at this as we frequently got people trying to sell us things door to door, but this time the goods for sale were very different. She pulled open the door to see a man standing there with two tiny kittens, barely 5 weeks old with their eyes not fully open. Now my mother is probably the softest hearted person in the world when it comes to animals and she quickly bought the kittens from the man, not intending to keep them as we had already managed to acquire four permanent cats (like I said, soft hearted). She realised that these kittens badly needed attention and were too young to go to an owner that didn't know what they were doing. So we took them in, established a care routine and raised them until they were about 10 weeks old.

And I absolutely thrived on this. I learned how to take care of these little guys to a science; it was a relief to finally be able to do something useful. You would imagine a child would be very reluctant to let go of kittens they had raised, but when the time came to rehome them, no, I was a very happy trooper. We knew we had saved those kittens lives and that was the best feeling.

The story does not end there though, we're not entirely sure how but word definitely got out to these sellers that our house had taken in some kittens, and rather frequently we would have people bring us them for us to foster. At one time we actually had a total of twenty one cats in our house! Our permanent four and two mothers with their kittens. We also took in any full grown strays to have them neutered and fed up. By the time we left Zambia after five years we had fostered over two hundred kittens, the vast majority of them being rehomed within our town. Sad people that me and my mother were, we frequently went to visit them and made a lot of firm friends.

We are now living in Scotland again but that story has followed us here too. When we left Zambia we couldn't bear to part with one particular kitten, she had been attacked and had her jaw dislocated on both sides. She had a year of surgery and therapy and can only open her mouth about a centimetre, the only options were to bring her with us or have her put to sleep as her care was too specific. And here she is with us, a poor tiny cat that can't open her mouth to eat properly, and the happiest little thing in the whole world. I love her with all my heart, what she stands for and the memories she brings back for me of Zambia.


Story by me.
Profile by Frenchi
Art by Sugar
Overlay by Seayari

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profile by Frenchi