The fruit vendor opened a box, revealing a tiny face. The kitten’s large, frightened eyes seemed ready to spill over with tears.
“Probably taken from its mother and abandoned,” the vendor said, eyeing the kitten’s matted fur. A box meant for apples isn’t much of a home.
The customer left without a word. The man shook his head sadly, lamenting how even women seemed to have lost their compassion. But after a while, she returned. “I can’t stop thinking about your kitten,” she admitted, handing over a cloth.
“Will you take it?” the man exclaimed, wrapping the kitten as gently as a child before handing it to her.
“It’s the right thing to do. You’ll be blessed for this,” he repeated kindly.
The woman smiled wryly. “We’ll see what my husband says about this ‘gift’—we might both end up out in the street.” Her words were almost prophetic. Despite being washed, groomed, and fed, the kitten still seemed pitiful and unappealing at home.
“What on earth is that creature?” her husband grumbled when the kitten tried climbing his leg, its claws scratching the new wallpaper and distracting them from their TV show.
“Do we have a mouse problem? Why do we need this in our flat?” he criticized.
Holding the kitten by the scruff, he stared at it disdainfully. “Make sure it’s gone by tomorrow.”
Jane began to regret her decision. Yet the kitten’s tear-filled eyes and its soft plead for attention with tiny paws pulled at her heartstrings. She bent down to stroke it.
Emboldened by her kindness, the kitten climbed onto her lap and nestled its nose into her warm hand. “Kindness to those who show kindness,” Jane recalled her mother’s words, feeling at peace with her choice.
The phone rang: “Grandma, come round for tea!”
Jane slipped out quietly, not wanting to disturb her husband. Her son lived just across the street. Rosie stood outside waving happily, but a large black car suddenly veered onto the sidewalk. Rosie’s small frame was thrown into the air. Jane froze, unable to scream or move.
In slow-motion horror, she watched as a woman picked up the girl. Rosie’s little arms clasped tightly around her neck. She was alive. A drunken man stumbled out of the car just as Jane’s son in uniform came running.
Shaking with anger, he fumbled with his holster, but a shout stopped him.
Jane, though still far away, seemed to push him back with her outstretched arms.
People gathered, blocking the driver, taking him away. Jane’s legs felt detached, unfeeling. But she moved… Was she moving, or being carried? To Rosie! A doctor was already there, examining every limb.
“She’s fine. No fractures, just bruises.”
“But why isn’t she talking?” Rosie’s mother asked, trembling.
“She’s scared. She needs distraction,” the doctor suggested.
“I’ll be right back.”
Jane rushed home, grabbed the kitten, quickly explaining the accident to her husband. She made it just in time. The ambulance hadn’t left. Rosie’s eyes were clouded with fear. Gently, Jane placed the kitten in her hands. Rosie’s fingers moved, stroking the soft fur. In response, a soft purring began. “Whiskers,” Rosie whispered. The doctor sighed with relief. Tears flowed freely down Jane’s face—finally, they could.
Rosie clung to the kitten. They spent the night in the hospital, but were released the next morning with a simple conclusion: “She’s truly lucky.”
“Kindness to those who show kindness,” Jane murmured softly.
