The fruit vendor opened the box. A little face peered out, its huge, frightened eyes seemed ready to spill over like two big drops.
“Won’t eat a thing, poor thing was probably taken from its mother and tossed aside. Its fur is matted from living in a crate of apples.”
The woman customer walked away without a word. The man shook his head sadly: “Even women have lost their compassion.” But soon, she returned. “I can’t stop thinking about your kitten,” she said, holding out a cloth. “Wrap it up for me, please.”
“You’re taking it?” the man asked excitedly, carefully wrapping the kitten like a baby and handing it to her. “There’s kindness in this world, there really is. It’ll come back to you, you’ll see,” he repeated.
The woman gave a wry smile. “You call me a benefactor? Wait till my husband sees this ‘gift.’ We might both find ourselves out on the street.”
And she wasn’t far off. The kitten wasn’t welcome. Though it was cleaned, groomed, and fed, it still looked pitiful and scruffy.
“What kind of creature is this?” her husband grimaced, pushing the kitten aside when it tried to climb his leg. The scratching of little paws interrupted their TV show. The new, expensive wallpaper was at risk.
“Do we have a mouse problem? Why else would we need it in our small flat?” he chided his wife.
He picked the kitten up by the scruff, staring in bewildered disgust at the helpless thing dangling from his hand. “Make sure it’s gone by tomorrow.”
Valerie was already questioning her decision. But those tear-filled eyes looked up at her, tiny paws kneading her leg, and such a vibrant purr came from its little body that a warmth of pity filled her heart. She bent down and stroked it.
Encouraged by her touch, the kitten climbed into her arms, nuzzling its nose into her warm palm. “Show kindness to receive kindness,” Valerie remembered her mother saying. It justified her actions and calmed her.
The phone rang: “Gran, come over for tea!”
Silently, so as not to disturb her husband watching TV, Valerie slipped out the door. Her son lived just across the street. Little Katie was already outside, waving happily. Suddenly, a large black car swerved onto the sidewalk. The child’s small body was thrown upwards. Valerie froze, unable to shout or move.
Her eyes, like a slow-motion film, absorbed every frame: a woman picked up the girl. Tiny arms clutched the woman’s neck desperately. She was safe! A man struggled out of the car, drunk. Valerie’s son ran towards them, in uniform.
Trembling, he tried to draw his weapon, stumbling at a cry: “No!” His mother stood across the street, but he felt like she was pushing him away with her arms.
People rushed over, blocked his path, and led the drunk driver away. Valerie couldn’t feel her legs. Yet, she moved… or was carried? To Katie! A doctor was checking her carefully.
“She’s fine. No broken bones. Just a few bruises.”
“But why isn’t she speaking?” her daughter-in-law shivered in large waves.
“She’s in shock. We need to distract her,” the doctor suggested.
“I’ll handle it.”
Valerie raced home, grabbed the kitten, breathlessly updating her husband on the events. She made it back. The ambulance hadn’t left. The fear was evident in her granddaughter’s eyes. Gently, she pried her arms open and placed the kitten inside. Katie’s gaze softened. Her fingers moved, stroked the soft fur. In return, came a gentle “Purr-purr-purr.” “Purrsie,” the little girl whispered. The doctor sighed, relieved. Valerie let her tears flow—now she could.
Katie clutched the kitten tightly. They spent the night in the hospital. By morning, they were sent home with the diagnosis: “A miracle child.”
“Kindness begets kindness,” Valerie whispered.
