I’d seen Pookie come and go so many times that it broke my heart to watch him suffer all over again. He wasn’t aggressive or sick, just a quiet, gentle, and playful cat with sad eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world. When no one else would, I decided to give him his last few days of peace at my home. But on the third day, as I cleaned up his bed, I found something that made my blood start to boil...
I brought Pookie home that rainy evening, determined to make him feel safe and loved. Raindrops tapped lightly on the window as I set up a cozy spot for him in the corner of my living room. 'This is your home now,' I whispered, stroking his back gently. Pookie blinked up at me with those big, trusting eyes, and I felt a warmth spread in my heart. We were going to be okay.
The moment I set him down, Pookie was off on a little adventure of his own. He roamed around, sniffing every corner and nook of my small apartment. I watched, amused, as this curious cat found his way into every room, cautiously approaching unfamiliar spaces. I chuckled as he nudged open a barely closed door with his nose. It was as if he was mapping out a safe route, his tail high and alert.