The fruit seller opened the box, revealing a tiny face. The kitten’s large, frightened eyes seemed ready to spill over like two big teardrops.
“She refuses to eat. Must have been separated from her mother and abandoned. Her fur is matted, probably from living in a plum crate.”
The customer walked away without a word, and the man sadly shook his head, thinking, “Even women have lost their compassion.” However, after a while, she returned.
“I can’t get your kitten out of my mind,” she said, handing over a cloth. “Wrap it up.”
“You’ll take her?” the man asked, delighted. He carefully wrapped the kitten and handed it to the woman like he was giving her a baby.
“It’s all in good faith; you’ll be rewarded,” he assured her.
The woman gave a tolerant smile. “I wouldn’t call myself a benefactor just yet. I’m not sure how my husband will feel about this ‘gift.’ We might both end up on the street.”
She was right. The kitten was not well-received at home. Despite being washed, groomed, and fed, it still seemed pitiful and scruffy.
“What kind of creature is this?” her husband asked with disdain, pushing the kitten away when it tried to climb onto his leg. The sound of its claws scratching distracted the couple from their TV show and threatened their new, expensive wallpaper. “Did mice overrun you or something? Why do we need a cat in our one-bedroom flat?” he scolded his wife.
Grasping the kitten by the scruff, the man looked at the helpless animal dangling from his hand with a mix of puzzlement and distaste. “It had better be gone by tomorrow.”
Valerie regretted her decision. But the teary eyes looked up at her with beseeching paws kneading her leg, and the weak little body purred so warmly that a wave of sympathy seeped into her heart. She bent down and stroked it.
Encouraged by the gentle touch, the kitten climbed into her arms, snuggling its nose into her warm palm. “Show mercy to receive mercy,” Valerie remembered her mother’s words, justifying her actions, she felt at peace.
Then the phone rang:
“Grandma, come over for tea!”
Valerie quietly slipped out the door, careful not to disturb her husband engrossed in the TV. Her son lived nearby, just across the road. Katie was already standing by their house, waving happily. Suddenly, a large black car veered onto the pavement. The child was sent flying into the air. Valerie was frozen. She couldn’t scream or move.
Her eyes absorbed every moment in slow motion: a woman picked up the girl. Tiny arms wrapped tightly around her neck. She was alive! A man struggled out of the car, visibly drunk. Her son, wearing his uniform, rushed over with shaky hands trying to draw his weapon, but stumbled when a scream stopped him:
“No!”
His mother stood across the road, yet he felt as if she was pushing him back with her arms extended forward.
People gathered, blocked his path, and took the drunken driver away. Valerie felt nothing beneath her feet but moved… or was carried? Towards Katie! The doctor was already examining her, running his hands over every bone:
“She’s okay. No fractures, just some bruises.”
“But why isn’t she speaking?” her daughter-in-law trembled with fear.
“Shock, she needs a distraction,” the doctor suggested.
“I’ll be right back.”
Valerie rushed home, grabbed the kitten, explaining the accident to her husband on the way. She made it in time. The ambulance hadn’t left. Fear still filled her granddaughter’s eyes. Gently, she eased the kitten into Katie’s small hands. The girl shifted her gaze. Her fingers moved, caressing the soft fur. A gentle “purr-purr-purr” responded. “Purrsy,” whispered the girl. The doctor sighed in relief. Valerie let the tears flow – finally, she could.
Katie didn’t let go of the kitten. They spent the night at the hospital, and by morning they were sent home with the note: “The girl was born under a lucky star.”
“Mercy for those who show mercy,” Valerie whispered…
