**Diary Entry**
A small grey tabby sat outside the vet clinic, crying. At her feet lay a tiny kitten, limp and frail. I was strolling down the street, my spaniel on a lead, enjoying one of those crisp autumn daysthe kind where the air rings clear and golden leaves dance like theyre listening to some unseen orchestra. The mood was light, bright. Then
Then something caught my eye, impossible to ignore: that grey tabby by the clinic door, mewing pitifully, her kitten barely breathing beside her. Every so often, she darted towards passersby, pleading silently. But people just quickened their pace.
Everyone was too busy to noticeor pretended not to. How often does it happen? Easier to walk past a strangers suffering. But I stopped.
I bent down and carefully lifted the kitten. It was so thin I could feel its ribs. Barely alive. One thought raced through me: *What now? Where do I go?* Then the mother cat stepped closer, locking eyes with me, her mew soft but insistent. *”Help save her”*
A sign on the door read: *”No appointments on the 28thclosed.”*
Panic flared. A taxi? Money? Where to? But instinct took over. I pushed the doorand miraculously, it opened.
At the end of the hall stood a tall, silver-haired man in a worn white coat.
*”Please,”* I said, voice trembling. *”Help. I dont have money now, but Ill pay later. Shell die”* I held out the kitten.
The vet took her gently and rushed to the operating room. The mother cat and I waited, trembling. Then I noticed something oddunder his coat, between his shoulders, faint bumps protruded. *Poor man, a hunchback?*
*”Do you think so?”* he suddenly asked, studying me before turning back to the kitten.
Hours passed. The kittens breathing steadied.
*”Shell live,”* the vet said. *”But she needs care, medicine, warmth. She cant go back outside”* His gaze shifted to me. The mother cat stared too, unblinking.
*”Of course Ill take them!”* I protested. *”Both of them. Me and Baxter”* I nodded at my spaniel, sitting calmly beside me. *”well make room.”*
The vet smiled. *”Then Ill give you all you need. No charge. Consider it paid in full.”*
His use of *”Miss”* startled meI hadnt been called that in years. But there was no time to dwell. I took the supplies, the kitten, and headed home, flanked by my loyal dog and the watchful tabby.
A month later, I mustered the courage to call the clinic and thank him.
*”Hello, Dr. Whitmore speaking,”* answered a cheerful voice.
I recounted the rescue, but he sounded baffled. After a pause, he said, *”Im sorry, I dont recall you. The 28th was my day offI was in the countryside with family. But no matter. Whats important is the kitten lived and found a home.”*
I sank into my chair, bewildered. Just then, the now-healthy kittennow the familys darlingleapt into my lap. Nearby, the mother cat watched me intently.
And then *He* appeared. The old coat no longer hid his white wings. The Angel smiled.
*”You saved her yourself,”* he said. *”I just helped a little.”*
The tabby began to purr.
*”I dont usually interfere,”* the Angel mused. *”But you cats so persistent. Fine. One last rule broken.”*
He winked at the catthen dissolved into air. At that moment, the doorbell rang.
A scruffy plumber stood there, toolbox in hand. *”You called? Leaky tap?”*
*”No, but since youre here,”* I smiled, *”the bathroom could use fixing. Ill pay.”*
He grumbled about mix-ups but stepped inside, kneeling to unpack his tools. Wordlessly, I brought him a cushion.
*”Ta,”* he muttered, then suddenly smileda tired, stubbled face transforming into something boyishly vulnerable. My heart ached. This lonely, lost soul
*”Would you like some borscht? Theres shepherds pie too,”* I blurted, surprising myself.
*”Shepherds pie,”* he breathed. *”God, its been years”* His eyes held hope.
*”Right, wait here!”* I flushed, rushing to the kitchen, giddy as if doing something monumental.
Meanwhile, the plumberthough pretending to workkept sniffing the air. The house filled with the scent of roasting meat and fresh soup. To pass the time, he turned on an old cassette player. Vivaldis *Four Seasons* filled the room.
I froze in the doorway. *”This cant be”*
But it was. And it was happening *now*.
A month later, we walked through the town squareme and that former plumber, now smartly suited. His eyes shone with a peace every soul craves.
Nearby, the Angel sat with the tabby, grumbling. *”You cats are impossible. Nothings ever enough. What more do you want?”*
The cat paced, staring demandingly.
*”Dont even beg!”* the Angel huffed. *”Ive bent every rule. No more.”*
Then he paused, met the cats gaze, and sighed. *”Fine. Have it your way. Bless you.”*
By a lottery kiosk, a beggar sattattered, lost in thought. But as we approached, he perked up.
*”Spare some change? Im starving,”* he rasped, hand outstretched.
My partner reached for his wallet, but I stopped him. Instead, I gave the beggar a note.
*”Miss,”* he said suddenly, *”take a ticket. Won it, didnt I? Swap you.”* He pressed a lottery slip into my palm.
His voice was oddly familiar. And under his coatwere those *humps*? No, surely not
*”Check it on the 15th,”* he insisted, gripping my hand. *”Or Ill be cross.”*
*”Alright,”* I laughed, tucking it away.
Come the 15th, I searched the square in vain, tears brimming. My partner held me. *”Well find him. Hell take our help.”*
As we walked off, hand in hand, the Angel sat in a café nearby, wings hidden under his coat. A black cat lounged opposite, listening.
He sipped his tea. *”You ever hear Bachs fourth sonata? Vikingur Ólafsson plays it like raindropstingling, alive.”*
With a wave, a summer shower materialized beside them, droplets ringing like crystal bells.
The cat watched, mesmerized.
Back home, the tabby purred as she groomed her grown kitten. Baxter dozed beside them. From somewhere deep, music swelledas if every purr harmonized with the rains shimmering song.
