By May 2000, my health had recovered dramatically, I had one months' break before I started my new job at my current employer's, I radically changed my hairstyle, and everything seemed really rosey... apart from my relationship.
I had been living with my ex for nearly 2 years. We frequently used to argue about me being subborn, and reluctant to "commit" (in his eyes, well. I just wasn't really ready for the "M" step). We used to have many arguments -- just like most couples, but the reason why I was not sure to take our relationship to the next step was his terrible temper.
He's usually a mild mannered person, but when he gets pissed off? WHOA! How many plates flew, how many times did he pack his bags threatening to leave me (then ask why I wasn't stopping him?!), how many times did he pick me up, shook me, and kicked me out the house, only to come running after my by the time I got to the lift, holding only my legs begging me to come back? Once too often, in my opnion.... (for your information, this is the only X that I refuse to speak to this day)
And no wonder I used to leave early during the day, and come back late at night after he had gone to bed...
Anyway, back to jogging in May. Tokyo has loads of crows -- just remember the Hitchock film "The Birds", and there you have it. We've destoyed their habitat so much that you find nearly a million of those flying omnivors ransacking rubbish bags in search of food scraps.
That day, once again, I was jogging past a rubbish dump. There were at least 5 crows fighting over kitchen scraps, and anything they can get their hands on. This time in addition to the five crows there was a black plastic bag... that moved. I didn't think too much of it at the time (I guess one of those crows got into the bags, I suppose).
Mouuuuw.
Huh?
Mouuuuuuuw.
Shit, not more cats that got thown away!
I approached the rubbish dump, trying not to upset the crows, coz I know how smart and how violent they can be. And there it was, the black pastic bag, tied in a perfect knot containing the kitties.
Whoever put the kittens in this bag intended it for it to die...
I took the bag away, and opened it gingerly. How many are in here? How many are alive? How many are dead, their small bodies eaten up by maggots? And with those words in my head I opened the plastic bag, and there he was. One skinnly, little kitten, as black as the plastic bag that he was left to die in; his eyes were puffy and half open due to some form of infection....
Mooouuuuuw.
Just as I took Belle to the vet's I took him straight away. The vet took one look at him and said that he had conjunctivitis probably caused by the flu, he probably had other illnesses, and judging by his weight he probably also contracted viral leukemia. He many not live past a year old, he said.
Regardless of the outcome I asked the vet to look after him. He was estimated at 1 month old when I found him. He went thru a lot of treatment to clear his eyes, and tried to get his weight up to fight the infections. When the final blood tests for feline lukemia came back as negative I knew he was going to come home with me.
Fallen Over Drunk... George and Bottle Cheap of Romanian Red 
George was in hospital for the next two months; he first came home in August. At the time I spent so much time either at work, or at the vet's that my ex was relieved when George came home. He thought that we can at last work on our relationship, start afresh with a new kitten in the house.
Dear readers, I'm sure some of you have seen (been in) similar situations where two people having relationship problems look to a new baby/new pet to see if they can make things work. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. In my case, it didn't...
(To be continued... Part 4 -- Today)
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