“Running late! In three minutes, she jumped into the shower, did her makeup, threw on her coat and boots, and dashed for the elevator.
‘Oh no, I’m late!’ Marta López bolted upright, barely managing to morph into a frenzy of efficiency. In just three minutes, she pulled off the impossibleslapping on makeup haphazardly, tugging on her coat and boots, and sprinting to the elevator while cursing her alarm clock for betraying her.
The Madrid streets greeted her with a light September drizzle, but Marta had no time for umbrellas or hesitation. Missing the bus meant facing Don Antonio, her boss, a man with zero tolerance for tardinesshis patience thinner than a bulls in the middle of a fight. In his world, being one minute late earned an epic scolding and threats of ‘staff adjustments.’
As she ran, she mentally bid farewell to her Christmas bonus, her pending day off, and even her usual 10 a.m. coffee break with coworkers. The equally stressed crowd around her looked like a parade of zombies with umbrellas. Even the sky seemed melodramatic, as if joining in on the chaos.
Two hundred meters from the bus stop, Marta skidded to a halt. By a worn-out bench, a soaked kitten tried to meow, but only managed a weak, off-key squeak. ‘Keep going or help it?’ she wondered. Don Antonio would obliterate her with a glare, but leave this shivering furball? No way.
Up close, she noticed the cat limping. ‘Oh my God, who did this to you, sweetheart?’ Without thinking, she bundled it into her scarf (white, now ruined) and took off again, this time with an extra passenger. ‘Well, if I get fired, at least I keep the cat,’ she reasoned.
Her plan to sneak into the office failed. The moment she turned the hall, she collided with Don Antonio, who stood arms crossed and scowling. ‘López! What time is this to show up? Or do we work whenever we feel like it now?’ Trembling, Marta opened her coat slightly. The kitten peeked out with a pitiful ‘meow.’
‘He was hurt, Don Antonio. I couldnt just leave him,’ she stammered, tears and snot in full display. She already pictured packing her deskuntil her boss unexpectedly scribbled an address on a slip of paper. ‘Take him to this clinic. Now. And dont come back today.’
Marta stared, convinced it was overuntil Don Antonio added, ‘Today and tomorrow are your days off. And good job with the kitten.’
At the clinic, the vet, a kindly grandfatherly man, explained that the kitten only had a sprain. ‘I knew Don Antonio as a boy,’ he chuckled. ‘He used to pull dogs out of sewers and fight kids who messed with cats. Now he donates half his salary to shelters, but with people well, after what happened with his family, you know.’
That night, with the kitten (now named ‘Pepe’) purring in her lap, Marta got a call. ‘Hows the patient?’ Don Antonio asked. They ended up having dinner together, talking about animals until the waiter kicked them out.
And so, between pet rescues and shared coffees, Marta learned that even the grumpiest bosses hide a soft heart. And Pepe? He never had to shiver in the cold again.”
