After descending the slope toward the river, Michael assessed the cats chances of survival. The river, squeezed between steep cliffs, flowed with a steady, calming rhythm. The monotonous lapping of waves against the pebbled shore sounded like a warning: “Half an hour half an hour till the release” Michael knew this sign well.
A kilometer upstream stood the local power plants dam. The spring floods had overfilled the reservoir, and notices had been sent the day before to all farms downstreamsoon, they would increase the water discharge, raising the rivers level. No flooding was expectedthe banks were steepbut the low-lying meadows would be temporarily submerged. Michael figured it wouldnt hurt to check the pumping station once more, just in case any fastenings had loosened.
Limping slightly, the faint creak of his prosthetic leg accompanying his steps, he inspected the area thoroughly. Everything was in order. Hed already reinforced the pipes and fencing the day before, but a second look never hurt. He removed his flat cap, ran a hand through his short, greying hair, then spread a small rug over a rock and sat down, massaging his stump. His leg achedevery change in weather reminded him. Lighting a cigarette, he settled in to wait. He loved watching the floodgates open. First, a distant rumble, then a white wall of foam, and suddenly, a surge of water would come crashing down, sweeping away branches, debris, and last years leaves. The river seemed to come alive, shedding the old.
Removing his prosthetic, he set it beside him and squinted as a fallen tree drifted slowly downstreamwould it sink or not? Halfway, it snagged on a sandbar. “Stuck,” Michael muttered. In ten minutes, when the flood came, it would be swept away. But then he spotted something odda tiny creature struggling among the branches. Leaning closer, he recognized ita cat. Grey, drenched, shivering, desperately clawing its way higher. Now perched on the topmost branch, twenty meters from shore, it was clinging to the twigs with its claws.
“Poor thing,” Michael thought. “Ten minutes, and the gates openit wont survive.” Quickly reattaching his prosthetic, he gauged the distance to the tree. The odds of rescue were slim, but he couldnt walk away. That gazeterrified yet hopefulhad once looked at him before.
Nearly thirty years earlier, Michael had served as a contract soldier. Alongside a young private, David, they had patrolled a volatile zone. Climbing a narrow mountain path, David had rushed aheadonly to be struck in the knee by a snipers bullet. His leg shattered, he collapsed, screaming in agony. Michael remembered those eyessilent pleading, the dawning realization that any rescue attempt could cost them both their lives.
Without hesitation, he fired toward the suspected snipers position, drawing fire as he dragged David behind cover. Bullets whizzed past, one grazing his helmet. But hed succeededhauling him to safety as smoke grenades shielded them. That same night, Michael stepped on a mine and since then, both men had lived without legsone missing the right, the other the left.
Now, Michael stripped off his padded jacket, grabbed the rug, and waded into the icy water. The cold burned his skin, his breath hitching, but turning back was impossible. He inched toward the tree, teeth clenched against chattering. The shallow water gave way to the current. Above, the roar grew louderthe floodgates were opening.
“Come on, kitty, dont be scared!” he grunted, stretching out an arm.
As if understanding, the cat leaped onto his shoulder, claws digging in. Pain lanced through him, but he gritted out, “Hold on.” Turning, he fought his way back, limbs sluggish, the cold numbing him. The prosthetic hindered his movements, his strength fading. The waters roar intensifiedthe surge was right behind them. Feeling the bank beneath his feet, he took one last stepthen collapsed, unconscious. The last thing he saw was the cat leaping to safety.
He woke by a fire. A kettle hissed cheerfully beside him, and the catnow drysat warming itself by the flames.
“Leave you alone for five minutes, and youre off on another adventure,” grumbled a familiar voice. Davidthe same old Dave, though his temples were now silver. “Barely dragged you out of there by your collar.”
Michael sipped the hot tea, bundled in his padded coat. The cat pressed silently against his knee.
“Quit nagging, Dave,” he chuckled. “Knew you wouldnt leave me. Like back then.” He stroked the cats back. “Now theres three of ustwo cripples and a four-legged one.”
“Aye,” David nodded. “That ones yours for life now. Once you save em, they stick to you. Cant shake em offlike me.”
Both men laughed. Then they stood and made their way back to the pumping stationone limping on his left leg, the other on his right. Between them, barely touching the damp ground with its paws, the cat trotted, never straying far from the man whod saved it.
**Lesson:** Even in brokenness, we find strengthand sometimes, the ones we rescue end up saving us in return.
