Foundlings

Muslims call them "laqeet" : "a baby picked up from death", and finding and nurturing such is as high as privilege gets (and what could be sweeter, evoking as it does God picking us up from the trash heap!) Our privilege has been high, but not quite that high, for we have welcomed a number of foundlings since coming to this province; alas, all of them were furry or feathered! Our rewarding work with the "orphelins" always inspired hope of greater things, yet our small-creature opportunites have left a parade of memories.
The morning after we arrived in Taizhou to teach kindergarten in each of the tri-cities, I came upon a tiny tri-colored kitten in a trash heap. I picked her up and carried her home, where, hiding her in my cupped hands, I said, "Surprise!" and presented her to the children. "Surprise" became a bottle baby, barely surviving her bad case of fleas, but growing so lively she was mistaken for a monkey. She led a merry life with us, but outside it was different. A man kicked her into the pond, and when I chided him with the words "Don't you know cats can't swim?" he laconically pointed at Surprise who was swimming for shore! Not long after, she came home with a bleeding head and compound fracture that left her somewhat lame in spite of our best care.
Caromel was a desperate abandoned kitten I found by the roadside, and Licorice, Frank rescued near the same spot a week later. Licorice, who was the scrawniest, most pathetic specimin of kitten we ever saw, pulled through to be our longevity pet, escaping for years the clutches of neighbors fond of "Kentucky fried kitty". Then there was the cat I found run over on the street, and brought home thinking she was ours. Our little daughter's tears dried fast, when our cat showed up to sympathize with her mortally-wounded twin. We nursed another mortally-wounded cat that our son went down into a dry pool to rescue after it had been abused. These last two cats finished their ninth life in "hospice" care, with budding doctors in attendance.
An Asian sparrow hit by a bus, and rescued , (remarkably, by the driver!) joined our family for a slow recovery (slowed more by our spiteful parakeet!)and was released to soar again.
A heart-wrenching scene in the middle of the street met my gaze one morning: two
puppies, one inside-out after being run over, and the other standing desperately-determined guard over its sibling, unaware that to stay meant death from the next car. That traumatized puppy came home only needing comfort, as it was healthy. But another pup I found near that same place used her last dregs of energy to lick my foot and wag her tail once as she looked up pleadingly. She was dying of starvation and a loathsome skin disease. For days she lay motionless in a basket on our balcony, while I honed my nursing skills. To our satisfaction, Dogged made a complete recovery and was an attractive, faithful pet.
Another foundling was a discarded dead chick on the sidewalk. I peered at it, and put it inside my clothes, where it began gasping and then cheeping, and slowly revived for a short and sweet life.
Most dramatic was the saga of Serendipity...... We stopped at the animal market, and shortly heard cries coming from a garbage can. Investigation revealed puppy bodies in various stages of death, but the tiniest and filthiest was dancing desperately on top, screaming for help. Our beholding this shameful tableau brought down wrath upon our heads from the sellers, who ordered us off in no uncertain terms. We moved on. But it didn't take long for me to realize I couldn't live with myself if I, too, abandoned that desperate little life. Scooping a piece of plastic from the ground, I marched swiftly to the can, swept off the lid and in one fell swoop, grabbed the little foundling in the plastic and was out the gate climbing into a taxi with my accomplices before the stunned sellers could lift a finger or find their voices to prevent the heist. After a bath, Serendipity (Pity for short) turned out to be snow-white, and the most devoted little darling until death.
What will we find next....? Your guess is better than mine.