My husband and I had just talked about adopting a cat when, as if on cue, a tiny white kitten—no more than five weeks old—showed up on our street, crying with all the strength his little body could muster.
We had no cat food on hand, so we gave him water and added “cat food” to our grocery list. Later that day, when I pulled into our driveway, I saw that he had made himself at home—curled up on one of our patio chairs. Not wanting to scare him off, I set out some food and let
him eat undisturbed.
That night, a storm rolled in, pouring rain, yet he stayed on our porch. We spent the night watching him from our bedroom window, hearts aching for the little stray.
Morning came, and with it, a sense of urgency—Hurricane Irene was approaching in less than 48 hours. We knew he wouldn’t survive such a storm alone, so we stocked up on cat supplies, determined to bring him inside before it hit.
With the patio door cracked open and a tempting dish of tuna inside, we waited. Four long hours passed. Then, finally, he crept in. Just hours later, he had already turned into a purring machine—as if he had always belonged.
By the next day, Irene had left our building surrounded by floodwaters and fallen trees. We’ll never know if he would have made it on his own, but thankfully, we never had to find out.
Now, he’s a happy, roly-poly house cat who loves windows, warm laps, ribbons, and salmon treats. But to us, he’ll never be just an “ordinary” cat—he’s the little stray who found us right on time.
We love him dearly, and life just wouldn’t be the same without him.
Credit – Original Owner ( Respect