Doing the right thing is hard

On Tuesday we had to do something very sad.

As I think I've mentioned, the abusive neighbours had two cats that they seemed to look after, once upon a time. Then they kicked them both out the house. The poor animals were so confused. And the one was really sick. As in it couldn't breathe properly, was covered in scabs, had puss streaming out of its nose and eyes and was a walking bag of bones. The neighbour man told me that it had FIV (the feline version of HIV), which meant that not only would it not get better, but it might infect other cats.

So, as you've probably guessed by now, we took the poor thing to the SPCA and had it put down. It was the right thing to do, but it was really, really hard. I sat in the boot of my hatchback car, with the cat in an old laundry hamper. It struggled to breathe so much that every breath sounded like someone in the last stages of emphysema. And yet, even as it sat there, pitifully spewing mucous out of every orifice (sorry, that was graphic), it tried to cuddle up to my hand to get some love. My heart broke.

I bawled my eyes out the entire way there. Not because the cat was being put down, but because there are people in the world like my neighbours who can beat their child black and blue in the face and let the family pet get the point where it is needlessly enduring ongoing suffering.

Surely when you have children or you take on a pet you sign up for responsibility?

Anyway, by the time we got to the SPCA I had mascara smeared all over my face and could barely get the words out to explain to the SPCA staff what the situation was. All I could hear was that poor cat's laboured breathing. The lady told me that there was nothing we could do; it was too late for him. I knew that, but it was still really hard to know that the cat's last moments were spent in pain that could have been avoided.

Ok... waiting for tears to clear... sorry. I'm starting to think that this post was a bad idea.

But my point... Last night, the horrible man comes to our flat and asks if we've seen the cat. Why? Certainly not because he cares for it. He shouted at our other neighbours for trying to feed it once. He wants to know where it is because it's his. He wants to know where it is for the same reason he doesn't want his kid to be taken away - becuase he has power and control over it.

He disgusts me.

The kid's grandparents have arranged to fly out from the Ukraine to some and get him. I'm not sure what the legal process is, but I can't wait until that child is out of the sphere of his influence.

Things are happening

Have I told you about our Russian trustee? Let's call her Nina (becuase the only other Russian woman I know is called Nina).

She knows the grandmother of the little boy being abused by our neighbours. The grandmother lives in the Ukraine and phones Nina to check up on her grandchild as the parents won't let her speak to the boy himself.

I have told Nina about what's been happening as I needed to get the parents' telephone numbers from her. She is very distressed about it, and last night, when the boy's grandfather called, she told him the latest developments (i.e. nothing has been done because nobody seems to want to help). He broke down in tears and sobbed, especially when Nina told him she'd spoken to the boy and asked him if he wanted to go home to the Ukraine to his grandparents. He answered quietly, "Yes. Please!"

So the grandfather called the Ukranian embassy in Pretoria, and they are sending someone to come and meet the boy and talk to him tomorrow morning at 9am, to try and get him returned to his grandparents. Nina would like TSC and I to be there as witnesses. I don't think I'll be able to be there, but TSC will.

Let's hope something happens. Frankly, the whole thing scares me. The boy's father has been yelling at Nina and threatening her. I would like to see him behind bars.

Monday update

After work on Friday, I called Childline to report my neighbours' abuse of their child. I was told there's nothing they could do, and given the number for Child Welfare. I called Child Welfare and asked to speak to a social worker, who told me off for calling on a Friday afternoon, saying there was nothing they could do. She advised me to call back this week.

I headed over to the local police station to open a case against my neighbours. I spoke to two officers who didn't have any idea what I should do, before being directed to a lady named Beauty who was very helpful.

She explained to me that the Child Protection Services unit has been closed down and that child abuse now falls under the auspices of the general police. I think this is ridiculous, as you surely need special training to deal with the situations that come up. Beauty told me that there's no record of my three calls or of a case being opened, and that they haven't logged a visit to my complex on that evening. She advised me to call emergency services back and get their feedback on my reference number from Friday, to put it all in an email and send it to Crimeline, who will then brief the police to open a case.

I called emergency services and quoted my reference number, asking them which police vehicle had made the call and what had happened. I asked the woman to read me her report. It said they had stopped by at 21.20, spoken tot the mother and sorted it out. That was it. As I was the complainant, they should have taken a statement from me, not just the lying, child-beating mother!

Yesterday, at church, I spoke to a friend who is a social worker. She called me this morning with the name and number of a state social worker who will be able to come out to the complex. She also have me the name and number of a sister at the local Teddybear Clinic who can do an assessment on the child. She advised that becuase the parents kept saying how worried they are about him, that he's a psychopath and a thief and that he needs help, I should ask them to take him to the clinic. If they resist, I can bring in the police or the state social worker. I will keep you posted on what happens next.

Too far this time

Two of my favourite bloggers, Being Brazen and Elizabeth, have both given me a nice award, which makes me very chuffed and I will certainly post about it next week. Elizabeth says I make her giggle, which I'm glad of, but today I'm going to write a very serious post.

My neighbours have taken it one step too far this time. We have put up with their screaming matches, wondering the whole time whether he was beating her or the kids. We have also put up with feeding and loving their cat, which they have completely abandoned. But last night, for the first time, they gave us proof that they are more than just nasty neighbours - they are criminals.

As I was dishing up supper at about 19.15, we heard a child screaming its lungs out, so we went outside to investigate. There was blood all over the corridor, and the screaming was coming from inside their flat. I wanted to call the police, but TSC went straight to their door and starting bashing on it. Eventually, after much shouting, the father came to the door and TSC demanded to know what was going on. The guy wouldn't let him see past him into the house and started making all the usual excuses - the kid slipped and knocked his head etc.

TSC kept pushing and telling him to bring the kid out so he could see if he was ok, and the guy stalled until his wife (who is the one who hit the kid) had washed the blood off the kid's face, telling TSC that the child (who is eight years old) is a psychopath, that he shoplifts and tried to poison them and that they're trying to get social services involved to help them with this "problem". He also said that the kid says his grandmother "touches" him, but they don't believe him. Five minutes later, he says that the kid is mentally unstable because he was molested for five years.

Eventually, the wife drags the kid out. His face is blue on one side and there are fingermark bruises all down one arm. TSC asks the kid if his mother hit him. The kid won't look at him, but shakes his head - no. TSC gets down on his haunches, looks the kid in the eyes, and says, "Please tell me the truth." The kid nods his head - yes. The mother then begins yelling at TSC saying that they don't want their kid, he's a piece of rubbish, they want to get rid of him and they'll pay us to take him away, he's just costing them money. All of this in front of her child.

While this was all happening, I had called emergency services and asked them to send the police. They took down my details and promised that a car would be around. This was at 19.30. For the next hour, we forgot about dinner while this man tried to talk his way out of the situation, saying that he realises things get out of hand sometimes (his wife packs her stuff and threatens to leave him on a regular basis after his verbal (and probably physical) abuse), but that they are trying, and with all due respect, we're not parents so we can't understand etc, etc.

I called for the police again at 20.15. Then again at 21.10. When we eventually went to bed at 11.30 after waiting for four hours, they had still not arrived. Apparently they came after midnight, when the child was in bed, and just took a statement from the parents. What help is that? Like they told the truth! Fortunately, our other neighbours (the nice ones) and TSC had ensured that the kid was safe. Had none of us intervened, who knows how far it would have gone.

I finish work early today and will be going straight to the police station to file a report. I will also be writing to the newspapers. It is simply unacceptable that in a situation where a child is at risk, so little is done. I cannot handle abuse of children and animals. It makes me shake with rage because they have no choice, no power to fight back.