Yesterday afternoon, while the pain was sharp and the room felt small, Lucy — the little black‑and‑white cat who doesn’t belong to me but somehow feels like she does — climbed onto my bed and settled herself beside me.
She watched me with those steady, knowing eyes animals have when they sense something is wrong. And when the tears came, she leaned in and tried to lick them away, as if that tiny gesture might soften the hurt.
It was such a small moment, but it stayed with me. A reminder that comfort sometimes arrives in the gentlest forms — a warm presence, a soft paw, a creature who doesn’t need words to understand.
She isn’t my cat. But yesterday she was my little companion, and I’m grateful for her quiet kindness.
Category: Personal Reflections