The fruit seller opened the box, and out peeked a tiny face. Huge, frightened eyes seemed ready to overflow with tears.
— She’s not eating, probably torn away from her mother and abandoned. Her fur is matted because she’s been living in a box meant for plums.
The customer left without a word. The man shook his head sadly, thinking, “Even women have lost their compassion.” But after a while, she returned.
“I can’t get your kitten out of my mind,” she said, handing him a cloth. “Wrap it up.”
“You’ll take her?” the man asked, delighted. He gently wrapped the kitten and handed it to her as if giving her a baby.
“This is just right, a good deed will be repaid,” he kept repeating.
The woman smiled indulgently. “No need to thank me just yet. I don’t know how my husband will react to this ‘gift’. We might both end up on the street.”
And she was right. The kitten didn’t fit in. Even after being cleaned, tidied, and fed, it still seemed pitiful and unkempt.
“What is this alien?” her husband sneered, pushing the kitten away as it tried to climb onto his leg. The suspicious scratch of claws distracted the couple from their TV show. Their new, expensive wallpaper was under threat.
“Do we have a mouse problem or something? Why do we need this in our one-bedroom flat?” he scolded her.
Holding the kitten by the scruff, the man looked disdainfully at the helpless creature hanging from his hands, “Make sure it’s not here tomorrow.”
Valerie already regretted finding the kitten. But those tear-filled eyes looked up at her, small paws kneaded her leg, and the frail little body purred so endearingly that a warm trickle of pity flowed into her heart. She bent down and stroked it.
Encouraged by her touch, the kitten climbed into her arms and pressed its nose into her warm palm. “Blessed is the one who is kind,” Valerie recalled her mother’s words and found peace in her decision.
The phone rang: “Grandma, come over for tea!”
Quietly, not wanting to distract her husband from the show, Valerie slipped out the door. Her son’s place was just across the street. Katie was already outside, waving eagerly. Suddenly, a big black car veered onto the curb. The child’s body flew into the air. Valerie froze, unable to scream or move.
Her eyes, like a slow-motion camera, captured every moment: a woman picked up the girl. Little arms clutched desperately to her neck. Alive! A man struggled out of the car. Drunk. Her son ran towards them, in uniform. His trembling hands fumbled for his weapon, only to be stopped by a piercing shout: “No!”
Valerie stood across the road. To him, it seemed she was pushing him away with outstretched arms.
People rushed over, blocked his path, and took the drunk driver away. Valerie felt nothing beneath her feet. But she walked… or was she carried? To Katie! A doctor was already examining her, feeling each bone gently.
“Everything’s fine. No fractures. Just some bruises.”
“Then why won’t she speak?” her daughter-in-law trembled violently.
“She’s scared. Distract her,” the doctor suggested.
“I will, I’ll be right back.”
Valerie raced home, grabbed the kitten, explaining to her husband what had happened as she dashed out. She made it in time; the ambulance hadn’t left. Fear swirled in the child’s eyes. Gently, Valerie opened her hands and placed the kitten in them. Katie shifted her gaze. Her fingers moved, stroking the soft fur. In response came a gentle purr, “Purr-purr.” “Purrsie,” the girl whispered softly. The doctor sighed in relief. Valerie let herself cry—she could now.
Katie held the kitten close. They spent the night in the hospital. By morning, they were allowed to go home with the conclusion, “The girl was just incredibly lucky.”
“A blessing for the kind-hearted,” Valerie whispered.
