Diary, 12October
I turned the key and frozethree dripping bundles were huddled on the doorstep. The rain had been that relentless, dreary autumn downpour again. I trudged across the yard, clutching my umbrella as if it could shield me not only from the cold drops but from the indifferent world itself. The lock clicked, and a soft, plaintive sound rose behind me:
Meow.
I stopped and turned my head. At the threshold, pressed together, were three sodden kittens, shaking from the chill. One orange, one white and one blackas if someone had deliberately chosen contrasting colours to make the sight extra heartbreaking.
My God I whispered, almost to myself.
The kittens stared up at me. They asked nothing, they called nothingjust looked. In their eyes lay something that tightened a knot inside me.
Why are you here? I murmured, crouching low. Go on, little ones, get out of here.
The orange one lifted a paw gingerly and brushed my fingertips. I shivered, sprang upright, opened the door and stepped inside. I turned back. The kittens were still there, unmoving.
Sorry, I whispered, shutting the door behind me.
Sleep eluded me that night. I lay listening to the wind rattling the branches outside, and it seemed as if somewhere beneath my doorstep a faint meow lingered. Perhaps the wind was howling, perhaps it was my conscience.
By morning the rain had let up. I looked out the step was empty.
Well, thats that, I said aloud, as if justifying myself. Someone else will find a better home for them. Yet a sharp, needlelike ache pricked my chest, as if Id lost something important.
Emily! a familiar voice called from the street.
Our neighbour, Margaret, stood in the yard, a leash in her hand and her mutt, Bella, wagging beside her. Come out, lets have a chat!
I pulled my scarf tighter and went down.
Listen, Margaret began, I heard there were kittens by your door yesterday. Where are they now?
Theyre gone, I shrugged. They came on their own, they left on their own.
Youre daft, she sighed. Cats dont just show up for nothing. If they pick a house, they bring something good. Did you chase them away?
I didnt chase them, I answered quietly. I just didnt take them in.
Too bad, Emily. Its a sin to shoo away those who come to you voluntarily.
Those words lodged painfully in my heart. I stood for a moment longer, then, with sudden resolve, turned back toward the house.
Ill go looking for them.
Now thats the spirit! Margaret called after me.
My old umbrella slung over my shoulder, the wet pavement squelching beneath my boots, I combed the whole yard, peered behind bins, beneath staircases, into the cellarno sign of the little ones. Only silence and the steady rush of water in the drainage pipe.
The next day I rose before dawn, left the radio off, dressed and set off again. I searched my own garden, then the neighbours, poked into every nook.
Kitkit, I whispered, feeling foolish. Where are you, little things?
Only a weak, irritating drizzle answered.
The third day was the hardest. I wandered until darkness fell, my legs aching, clothes soaked through, but I could not stop. At the blocks entrance Margaret caught up with me.
Emily, youre drenched! Youll catch a cold!
I cant, Margaret, I said, exhausted. They came to me. I have to find them.
I understand, she nodded. Well look together tomorrow.
On the fourth morning, just as I was about to step out, a faint, muffled meow drifted up from below. I crouched and peered under the heating pipe. In a corner, pressed together, were two kittensorange and whitethin, soaked, trembling. The white one could barely breathe.
My darlings, I whispered, reaching out slowly. The orange one allowed itself to be lifted at once; the white one was feeble.
I cradled them under my coat, feeling their tiny hearts thump against my palm, and carried them into the kitchen. I spread an old towel and wrapped them up. The orange kitten perked up immediately, sniffing around, while the white one lay still.
Dont you dare die on me, I murmured, rubbing its paws. Hear me? Stay with me!
I poured warm milk into a shallow dish. The orange one nosed the bowl greedily, and I dribbled milk into the white ones mouth with a syringe, drop by drop. After an hour it let out a soft mew.
Youre a trooper, I smiled, the first genuine smile in days.
But where was the third the black one?
Leaving the two to warm up, I went back out, searching until evening. At last I heard a plaintive squeak from behind the old shed. In the gap between the boards a tiny black kitten was stuck.
How did you manage that, you little scamp? I chided as I freed it. The gap was narrow; I had to fetch a hammer and pry the board away.
The black kitten was the frailest of the trio. I brought it home, laying it beside the others on a worn blanket by the radiator. The orange one darted around the kitchen, the white one breathed evenly, and the black one
Hang on, love, I whispered, coaxing it with milk. Dont give up.
At midnight it finally managed a few sips on its own.
The first weeks were rough: diarrhoea, fevers, one would fall ill, then the other. I lay awake at night, warming, feeding, rushing to the vet.
Maybe you should rehome them? Margaret suggested one afternoon.
No, I said firmly. Theyre mine now.
Minea word I hadnt spoken in years.
I named the orange one Gingera mischievous, restless fellow always sticking his nose into everything. The white one became Snowball, a dignified observer who loved perching on the windowsill and watching the world. The black one I called Shadowquiet, cautious, yet the one who clung to me most fiercely; the moment I sat down, hed curl onto my lap.
Soon the house filled with purrs, pattering paws, and the clink of food bowls. The scents of milk, cat shampoo and fresh bread returned. Life itself seemed to breathe again.
I now wake before the sun, pour fresh water, scoop food, change the litter. My days follow a clear rhythmbreakfast, play, lunch, indoor roaming, evening cuddles, then sleep. And, oddly enough, I love it. For the first time in a long while I have a reason to get out of bed each morning.
Two months later the kittens had grown into proper little rascals. Ginger was fearless and restless, constantly causing mayhemtipping curtains, toppling flower pots, climbing into wardrobes and turning them into chaotic messes.
What have you gotten yourself into now, you troublemaker? I scolded, but with a smile and tenderness that only a mother could muster. Ginger, as if knowing hed be forgiven, rubbed against my legs, purring like he was saying, Im just playing, Mum!
Snowball was the oppositecalm, dignified, as if born for philosophical contemplation. He claimed the kitchen windowsill as his throne, sitting for hours, watching the yard. Occasionally hed meow, perhaps conversing with passing birds or giving counsel to the neighbourhood cats.
Shadow became my constant shade. Wherever I went, he followedinto the bathroom, onto the kitchen floor, even onto the bed where hed settle on my pillow the instant I lay down.
Sticky little thing, I laughed, stroking his ear.
One morning something felt off. I awoke, heart thudding, and looked around. Snowball sat in his usual spot, Ginger sprinted down the hallway, but Shadow was nowhere.
Shadow! I called, voice shaking. Where are you, love?
No answer. I searched every cornerunder the sofa, in the wardrobe, even inside the washing machine. Nothing. My stomach clenched. Had he slipped down the stairs? The front door was shut the casement window too. I darted out to the hallway, then the courtyard, checking the basement, the loft, the hedges bordering the fence.
Shadow! Shadow! I shouted, ignoring the curious glances of neighbours.
From the top of the garden wall Margaret appeared at the gate.
Emily, whats happened?
My Shadows vanished! I said, almost in tears. I dont know where he could be!
Ill come down, well look together, she replied.
We combed the whole block, peered into every alcove. I was on the brink of sobbing when a faint, almost inaudible meow floated down from above. I froze, listening. The sound seemed to come from the wardrobe. I lifted the top shelf, pushed aside some boxes, and there, curled up, was a black bundle.
Shadow! I breathed, relief flooding my eyes. How did you get up there, you little rascal?
He let out a plaintive mew, too scared to jump down. I fetched a stool, climbed carefully, and rescued the trembling kitten. Pressing him to my chest, I stroked his back and whispered, You gave me a proper fright, you know.
He purred, nudging his head against my cheek, as if apologising.
In that moment I realised I wasnt just afraid of losing a kitten; I was terrified of being alone again. These three had become my family, my purpose, a piece of my heart. Ginger hopped onto the sofa, meowing; Snowball gave an approving purr; Shadow nestled against my neck.
That evening, for the first time in ages, I felt truly needed.
Thank you, I whispered, arranging the water bowls. Thank you for coming to me.
Now every time I return from the shop, Ginger greets me at the doorleaping, purring, rubbing against my legs. Snowball stands sentinel on the windowsill, a true watchdog, surveying the world with his steady gaze. And Shadow, ever faithful, remains at my side, his amber eyes full of tenderness and understanding.
When Im sad, he curls up beside me, warming me with his body. When Im happy, he purrs louder, as if sharing my joy.
The house has come alive. I no longer get up merely because I have to; I get up because I want tofeed my boys, play, talk to them. Yes, I talk to the cats, and Im not ashamed. They answer in their own languagesoft purrs, a flick of a tail, a tiny meow.
In those quiet conversations I learned the most important thing: I am no longer alone. Those who needed me are now the ones I cannot live without.
A year has passed. I stand at the kitchen window, looking out over the garden where I once sheltered three drenched kittens.
Snowball, look, its raining again, I say to the white cat perched on the sill.
He replies with a gentle meow, never taking his eyes off the glass. Hes grown into a sleek, handsome fellow with green eyesserene, wise like an old professor. From the hallway comes a thumpGinger dashing in with a toy mouse clenched in his jaws. Still the same imp, now larger, fluffy as a citrus orange.
What chaos have you caused now, you little terror? I laugh.
And beneath my feet, as always, Shadow purrsa black ball of coal, his eyes reflecting every moment of my past and present. He never strays more than a step from me.
My dear ones, I murmur, leaning toward him.
The gate creaked; Margaret returned with Bella trotting beside her.
Emily! she called. Come out!
I smiled, watching my companions.
You were right, Margaret, I whispered. They saved me.
I glanced upward and added softly, Thank you, dear perhaps you sent them to me.
Outside the rain drummed steadily on the windowsill, but inside the house was warm and peaceful. I closed my eyes, listening to the comforting rumble of purrsthe very sound that marked the beginning of my new life.
Three kittens that appeared one rainy afternoon taught me the greatest lesson: love always finds its way back, sometimes as three wet kittens at your doorstep.
