She Chose Us

She wasn’t really ours. But in the world of stray-turned-pet cats, ownership is a blurry concept anyway. She was an orange tabby, always strutting into our backyard like she belonged — like she had lived there long before we did. Over time, she stopped being a visitor. She became a resident. A quiet guardian of her claimed territory.

_{They’re so smart — they’ve chosen our vegetable patch as their hideout and shield against the scorching summer heat. Cool, green, and safe.}

She was territorial, too. She'd hiss at new cats and glare at birds that dared come too close. We’d often spot her stretched out lazily under the sun, blinking slowly as if the world owed her peace.

We knew she was pregnant. Her belly grew round, and her pace slowed down. We waited, watched, wondering when the little ones would arrive. And then, one day, she disappeared for a while. We searched, but couldn’t find the kittens. She had hidden them well.

It was only slowly — cautiously — that she started showing them to us. One by one, we’d catch glimpses of tiny faces peeking from behind the outer unit of our AC. The fellas were shy at first. Still are. But back then, they'd scurry and hide at the slightest sound.

And then, two days ago, we found her. Lifeless.

Gone.

Just like that.

There was no warning. No cries. No dramatic end. Just silence.

And suddenly, the orange cat who had become a part of our daily life… wasn’t there anymore.

It's heartbreaking.

_{I can’t help but check on them again and again. They like milk — little sips at a time. Still not weaned, still missing their momma… but slowly learning.}

Now, her babies are out there — without their mother. They don’t have the luxury of shyness anymore. With no mommy to watch over them, they have no choice but to be bold for survival.

But I can’t help but wonder — do animals somehow know when their time is near? Or was this all just a coincidence? Maybe she didn’t choose us by accident. Maybe, somehow, she trusted that we’d care. That her babies would be safe here.

Whatever it was… she left them with us.

Four tiny, fragile kittens.

She didn’t leave much behind. No collar, no pawprints we could preserve. But she did leave something — her trust. Her babies.

And that… that makes her ours more than ever.

She chose us. And we will choose them until they are ready to leave. . .

---

As I finished writing this post, I stepped outside to check on them. And I saw something that touched me more deeply than I expected. The orange one — the one who takes after her momma — was being gently groomed and comforted by her siblings.

First the white one curled around her, cuddling and softly petting her like a little caretaker. Then the black and white one joined in, taking over where the other left off.

It was like they knew.
Like they had realized that their mommy isn’t coming back.

So now… they’re taking care of each other.
Raising one another, in their own silent, instinctive way.

What a wonder love is — even in the smallest creatures.