**Diary Entry**
A small grey cat sat by the door of the veterinary clinic, crying softly. At her feet lay a tiny kitten, frail and barely breathing.
I was out for a peaceful walk, my little terrier, Charlie, trotting beside me on his lead. It was one of those crisp autumn daysthe air sharp and clear, golden and crimson leaves swirling as if dancing to an invisible melody. The mood was light, almost sparkling. Until suddenly
Something impossible to ignore caught my eye. There, by the clinics entrance, sat the grey cat, her pleading mews cutting through the hum of the street. She darted toward passersby, as if begging for help, only to be ignored. People hurried past, lost in their own worlds.
How often do we do that? Walk past a strangers pain because its easier? But I stopped.
I knelt and carefully lifted the kitten. Its ribs jutted sharply beneath my fingers, its breaths shallow. One thought flashed through my mind: *What do I do? Where do I go?* Then the mother cat stepped closer, locking eyes with me, her mew soft but insistent. *Help save him*
A note hung on the door: *”Closed28th. Bank Holiday.”*
Panic flickered. A taxi? Money? Where else could I go? But instinct took overI pushed the door. And, miraculously, it opened.
At the end of the corridor stood a tall, greying man in a worn white coat.
*”Please,”* I begged. *”Help. I havent any money now, but Ill pay later. Hell die otherwise.”* I held out the frail little body.
The vet took the kitten gently and rushed to the surgery. The mother cat and I waited in the hall, trembling. Minutes later, I noticed odd lumps beneath the mans coat, between his shoulders. *”Poor man, a hunchback?”* I thought.
*”Do you think so?”* he asked suddenly, meeting my gaze. Then he turned back to the kitten.
Hours passed. The kittens breathing steadied.
*”There,”* the vet said. *”Hell live. But he needs caremedicine, warmth. He cant go back outside”* His eyes lingered on me. The mother cat stared too, unblinking.
*”Of course Ill take them home,”* I said, ruffling Charlies ears. *”Theyre family now.”*
The vet smiled. *”Then Ill give you all you need. No charge. Consider it settled.”*
I blinked at the word *”Miss”*I hadnt been called that in yearsbut there was no time to dwell. I left with medicines, the kitten, and the mother cat trailing behind.
A month later, I gathered my courage and called the clinic to thank him.
*”Hello, Dr. Whitmore speaking,”* answered a cheerful young voice.
I recounted the rescue, but the vet sounded baffled. After a pause, he said, *”Im sorry, I dont recall. The 28th was my day offI was in the Cotswolds with family. You must be mistaken. But it doesnt matter. The kitten lived, and thats what counts.”*
I sank into my chair, bewildered. Just then, the now-healthy kittennow our spoiled darlingleapt into my lap. The mother cat watched from the floor, eyes keen.
Then *He* appeared. The old coat fell away, revealing white wings. The Angel smiled.
*”You saved him yourself,”* he said. *”I only helped a little.”*
The cat purred, gazing up at him.
*”I dont usually interfere,”* the Angel muttered. *”But you cats so stubborn. Fine. One last rule broken.”* He winkedthen vanished.
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
A scruffy man stood there, clutching a toolbox. *”You called? Leaky tap?”*
*”No, but since youre here”* I smiled. *”The bathroom could use fixing. Ill pay.”*
*”Bloody mix-up again,”* he grumbled, stepping inside. Kneeling, he unpacked his tools.
Wordlessly, I brought him a cushion for his knees.
*”Ta,”* he murmured, then suddenly smileda tired, stubbly face transforming into something almost childlike. My heart ached. This lonely, lost soul
*”Would you fancy some stew? Theres shepherds pie too,”* I heard myself say.
*”Shepherds pie,”* he breathed. *”Christ, its been years”* His eyes held hope.
*”Right, wait here!”* I flushed, hurrying to the kitchen, giddy as if this were the most important task in the world.
As he worked, the scent of roasting meat and herbs filled the house. He switched on an old cassette playerVivaldis *Four Seasons* swelling through the rooms. I froze in the doorway.
*”This cant be”*
Yet it was. And it was happening now.
A month later, we strolled through the town squareme and the former handyman, now smartly suited. His eyes shone with quiet happiness.
Nearby, the Angel sat beside the mother cat, grumbling.
*”You lot are impossible. Whatever I do, its never enough. What now?”*
The cat paced, eyes demanding.
*”Dont even start!”* the Angel huffed. *”Ive broken every rule. No more.”*
Then he stilled, meeting her gaze, and sighed. *”Fine. Have it your way. Bless you.”*
By a lottery kiosk, a beggar sattattered, deep in thought. But as we approached, he perked up.
*”Spare a bit for the hungry?”*
My companion reached for his wallet, but I stopped him. I handed the beggar a note.
*”Miss,”* he said suddenly. *”Cant take it for nothing. Swap you for this.”* He offered a lottery ticket.
His voice struck mefamiliar somehow. And beneath his coat, two small bumps hinted at something No. Surely not.
*”Check it on the 15th,”* he insisted, gripping my hand. *”Or Ill be cross.”*
*”Alright,”* I laughed, tucking it away.
The 15th came. I dashed through the square, stopping strangers, desperate to find him. Tears pricked my eyes. My husbandfor thats who he was nowheld me close.
*”Well find him. Well make him accept help.”*
As we walked away, hand in hand, the Angel sat in a café nearby, his wings hidden beneath an old jacket. A black cat watched him from the opposite chair.
He sipped his tea, nibbled a scone, and mused,
*”You know, Ive always loved Bachs sonatas. Played by Vikingur Ólafssonlike raindrops singing.”*
As if to prove it, he waved a hand. A summer shower shimmered into being beside them, crystal drops ringing against leaves, scattering rainbows.
The cat stared, entranced.
Back home, the mother cat purred as she groomed her grown kitten. Charlie dozed, content. Somewhere, deep in the house, music playedand every purr seemed to harmonise with the chime of those distant, dancing raindrops.
