I was given a tiny grey kitten called Lily by my friend Emma. The little beauty delighted me at once.
Ill call you Lily, I thought, and I brushed the soft fur on her head.
She seemed to approve; she had previously been just Kitty. Lily explored her new home slowly, liked everything, but
Each morning she met a surly man in the kitchen, clearly not a fan of Lily. He muttered at her constantly and shooed her away from the armchair she had claimed as her favourite perch.
When the man left, Lily would purr with me, chase the toys Id bought for her, and sometimes wonder why my kind, wonderful owner had no little boy or girl to share the house with. Life would be so much livelier with children to play with, but there were none. I realised why: a man as angry as Jack couldnt possibly raise a family; he cared only for himself.
Emma, your favourite cat has been sitting on my trousers again; theyre all covered in fur! Clean them up, or Ill look foolish at work! Jack snapped once more.
All right, Ill clean them, just dont leave her on the chair. Put her away in the cupboard, I replied, rolling up the trousers.
Spring arrived, and one day Claire told Lily we were heading to the country cottage.
Youll love it there. Youll lounge on the grass, listen to birdsong, and feast on ripe berries every day.
The cottage in the Cotswolds was indeed lovely. Lily darted among the flowerbeds, sniffed the first spring blossoms, their scent intoxicating. She sneezed a couple of times, tumbled in the grass, and chased a sparrow that appeared out of nowhere, hopping from branch to branch as if teasing her. She leapt and jumped, but the bird always stayed just out of reach.
Lily, come have lunch, Claire called.
On the porch a cup of milk and a slice of sausage waited. Lily hadnt finished when the irate Jack appeared on the porch.
Get out of the way, dont get in my path, he growled, nudging the cat off the steps.
Lily didnt take offence; she was already used to his brute manner. She slipped into the nearby gazebo and curled up on the bench. Claire saw her and fetched an old, warm cardigan.
Here, this is yours now. Lie on it and youll be cosy, she said and left.
That day Claire was busy, so Lily spent most of it alone, except for the sparrow that returned, despite having a large family, preferring her company.
Time passed quickly at the cottage. Before we knew it August arrived, a month heavy with harvest. Fortune smiled on Lily daily; Claire fed her the finest ripe berries a delight she could never refuse and fresh green cucumbers from the garden, which she loved as well.
One thing was harsh: Jack constantly muttered, calling Lily a lazy hen.
The mice will soon swarm the house, and youll do nothing. Go catch them! he commanded.
Lily, still a kitten, tried. In a single day she managed to catch two mice and placed them on the porch, hoping to prove she wasnt lazy.
Autumn came, and one day Claire fell ill and was taken to the city. Lily stayed alone at the cottage for several days, feeling terribly lonely, not knowing what had happened to her owner. No one looked after her; she had to fend for herself.
Jack visited a few times, collected the last of the harvest, tossed some dry cat food into the gazebo and left. Hard days stretched ahead, and only the sparrow kept her company.
Early November brought snow and a biting cold. Lily kept retreating to the gazebo, sighing sadly as food grew scarce. She had thinned considerably and feared her days of comfort were over.
Then one afternoon Jack arrived, not alone. Instead of Claire, a stranger came with him, walked around the property, peered into the gazebo, and spotted Lily.
Whats this little cat doing here? She wont survive the cold, shell starve. he said to the angry man.
I have nowhere to take her. My wife is in hospital, and Im at work from dawn till dusk the man replied, shrugging.
And what about the poor creature? Dont you feel sorry? the stranger asked, surprised.
Shell stay here. If you want, you can adopt her, the man muttered, handing over the cottage keys.
They left, and Jack gave Lily a dry slice of sausage and a bit of bread. She survived a few more days, the sparrow still chirping nearby, though her spirit waned.
Meanwhile, the stranger Mark who had bought the cottage through the local garden society, decided one weekend to go skiing and thought of the forlorn cat left in the gazebo. How is she doing? She must be waiting for me, he mused.
The road to the society was snowcovered; no one lived there in winter. Mark parked his car by the roadside, slipped on his skis, and headed for the cottage. After a long trek through the drifts, he finally saw the snowburied house and the gazebo.
He dug away the snow with his boots, squeezed through the yard, and called out,
Kitty, where are you? Are you alive, my little girl?
He lifted the heavy woolen coat covering the gazebo door and found a limp, exhausted Lily curled inside. She could barely move, but the familiar chirp of the sparrow at the open doorway stirred her.
Youre alive, my little pearl, Mark said, tears welling in his eyes. You made it.
He gently placed a piece of minced meat before her and poured a little water into a tiny bowl. Lily sniffed the tempting scent and, trembling, took a cautious bite.
The sparrow perched on the doorway, tweeting approvingly. Mark tore a crumb from a fresh roll hed brought and tossed it to the bird.
Have some, friend, he called.
The bird hopped onto the bench and pecked at the offering. After theyd eaten, Mark wrapped Lily in a soft, fluffy towel hed brought from home and cradled her against his chest.
Goodbye for now, mate, he waved to the sparrow, scattering the remaining crumbs on the bench. Heres a little treat for you.
Mark rushed Lily to the nearby veterinary practice. The vet examined her and declared she was severely weakened and should stay in the clinic for a while.
Lily spent a week under care, and on the following weekend Mark drove her home. His wife Helen had already bought a snug little cat house and a few toys for her. Lily finally had a family that loved her.
A week after the move, Claire, now recovered, called Mark to ask whether Lily was still alive. She had just learned that her cruel husband had abandoned the cat. Mark recounted the sad tale of abandonment and Lilys happy rescue. Claire was relieved, but she didnt ask for Lily back; she was glad the cat had found new, caring owners.
Even in the darkest moments, there are people with good hearts ready to help those in need. This story reminds us that true kindness always finds its way.
Do you believe in that?
