Brittany McGee

Last week was the most difficult week I’ve have had while in Peru.

Not because of anything at the school, municipality or health post. Not because of anything with my host family. Nothing to do with Peace Corps.

Actually, my week began well. I had begun journaling regularly, meditated on Sunday, ran and took a shower with running water on Monday, exercised and had a fantastic meeting on Tuesday. But, by Tuesday night, everything started falling apart.

Through Facebook, I learned that a one-time-very-close, high school friend had passed away. Despite not talking to him in 5 years, I found myself lying awake most of the night remembering all the time we had spent together. I also found myself contemplating the shortness of life and wondering if I was doing the right thing, being in Peru away from my loved ones, missing out on important life events.

Wednesday, I went to the regional capital with another volunteer and Cesar. The long day distracted me, but by Wednesday night, my mind was once again preoccupied.

By the time I woke up Thursday morning, all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I sucked it up though and went to the Health Post and then over to Julio Ponce.

On my way home from Ponce, my life changed.

I walked my normal route home, stopping about 2/3 of the way home to the sound of a small “mewing.” I looked around, expecting to see a kitten wanting to get into a house. After not seeing anything I began thinking I must be crazy and imaging things due to exhaustion. I turned back around ready to continue walking. That was, until I saw a tiny white kitten crawling on all fours. She was dirty, had garbage attached to her, and was in the middle of the dirt road.

Not knowing what to do, I moved her closer to the curb. She kept flailing around and ended up in the path of an oncoming construction truck. Panicking, I once again picked her up and moved her to a hole at the bottom of the wall that the sidewalk butted up against. She seemed content with this, and I walked away, knowing that she didn’t have much time left.

But when I made it home, I couldn’t take my mind off of her. I kept thinking that if I didn’t have my laptop and other notebooks in my bag, I would have taken her to a vet. After talking to my animal-loving family in the States, including my eventually-going-to-be-a-vet brother, I changed, found a box, and headed back to where I left the kitten.

On my way out, and in my best Spanish, I told my host sister that I had found a kitten and was going to take it to the vet to die in peace. I hurried out the door and did a run/walk combination with a box in my hands. I’m sure I looked crazy.

By the time I made it to where I left the kitten, she was no longer there. My assumption is that she crawled under the wall and into the yard on the other side of the wall. Feeling like a failure, I turned around and saw a different kitten with the same coloring dead in the street.

Armed with gloves, I put one on and picked it up, thinking I could at least take it to the vet so the vet could properly dispose of it. As I reached down to pick up this poor, dead creature, I noticed another kitten, clearly from the same litter, crawling on the ground. As I picked this one up, she mewed hopelessly.

I then carefully walked to the center of the town to the first vet I could find. I tried to explain to the vet that I had found one dead kitten and one still alive. I asked him if it would be best to euthanize the one that was still alive, since clearly no one wanted her and there are no animal shelters in Olmos (and likely nowhere in Peru). He looked at me strangely, told me that the kitten was less than ten days old and I needed to feed it powdered milk mixed with anis tea and then gave me a syringe. He also told me to just put the dead one in a bag, tie it up and put it in the trash. Because, duh.

So, there I was. Leaving the vet’s office with one dead kitten in my box, and one alive. Completely unprepared mentally, emotionally and physically to take care of the alive one. I rushed home, overwhelmed, and immediately turned to my family in the States for advice. While waiting for a response, I hurried to the closest tienda around the corner to buy milk.

I spent the entire afternoon in an emotional, exhausted state while trying to make sure the kitten was comfortable, warm and fed. I researched as much as I could, which only led me to feeling more overwhelmed.

The kitten wasn’t responding the way all the websites said she should. She didn’t like eating. Her mouth was bright pink, an indication of dehydration, despite me giving her liquids. And no matter what I did to keep her warm, she always felt cold. She also had two open wounds, where I could see her ligaments, on her left leg and tail. Despite cleaning these, I couldn’t get any gauze or bandage to stay put.

We went into the night, and I set my alarm for every two hours so I could wake her up and feed her. My host brother-in-law lent me a larger shoe box and his flannel t-shirt, I covered her with my fuzzy socks, and a few other things. She was somewhat restless through the night and really only slept when I stuck my hand in the box with her.

By the earliest of hours Friday morning, I was exhausted but so attached to this small creature. Every time I held her, pet her, or let her cuddle against my hand, she had a soft purr (or some sort of sound that I’m choosing to believe was the equivalent).

She had made it through the night and very much was appreciative of the love I had shown her. However, she was getting more restless as the time passed, something I interpreted as good. I left for two meetings that morning, and all I could do was think about the kitten. I was SO worried that something would happen.

I came home to a sweet mewing kitten, who just wanted to curl up with me. I fed her, but that didn’t stop her incessant mewing. I put her in her box to rest while I ate lunch, and came back to more mewing.

After a few attempts at feeding and comforting/petting, the sweet kitten took her last breaths in my lap as we sat in the sunlight that was pouring into my room.

I cried.

I cried a lot.

And it was ugly.

I cried because someone had tossed this kitten, as well as her siblings, aside. Someone decided that they weren’t worth giving a chance, when really the mother cat should have been spayed to prevent this entire predicament.

I cried because I felt that I had failed the kitten, failed my family who believed and supported me, and failed myself.

I cried because life is so fragile. And it can be taken in a moment’s notice.

During all this crying and after both losses this week, I also felt determined to be better. Better at telling those I love that I care about them. Better about inspiring others to improve their community. Better about being the person I want to be.

And so now, at the start of a new week, I’m ready to tackle whatever the world decides to throw at me. I’m determined to give my all to any situation that comes up. And, I’m determined to show the world love, whether it’s by smiling at everyone I pass on the street, hugging my host nieces, or telling my friends what they mean to me.