Lizzie and the Open Door
It was dark and scary outside Her heart ached. Why was this happening to her? Lizzie curled up quietly under the shadow of an old oak tree in the garden. The biting wind cut through her fur, turning her tears into icy crystals on her cheeks. She tucked her frozen paws close and remembered
How lovely it had been, nestled against her mothers warm side, surrounded by her siblings. Mum would groom them one by one, purring a soft lullaby. Safe. Loved. Then her little legs grew stronger, and shed dart from that warm cocoon to explore the bright flat.
One by one, her brothers and sisters were taken awayuntil it was Lizzies turn. A man and woman cooed at her, cuddled her, even kissed her. But Lizzie just wanted to run! They brought her to a new home, and oh, how she raced through every room, every cranny, discovering it all.
For a while, everyone adored her. So many toysfluffy mice, bouncy balls, feathers on strings! Her favourite? Chasing that impossible red dot from the laser pen. But Lizzie grew into a dignified lady, and games lost their charm. Only the jingle of the laser pens keychain could still send her sprinting after that dot.
Evenings were spent “helping” her owner cook in the kitchen. Mornings saw her perched by the door, watching her human leave for work. Lizzie was happy.
Then it all ended. Suitcases appeared. Lizzie pounced on them, thinking it a new gamebut her humans wouldnt meet her eyes. A sour-faced woman with pinched lips arrived, muttering about “looking after the flat” while they were away. Lizzie sat by the door, ears straining for familiar footsteps. They never came.
Home turned cold. The woman often forgot to feed her. Too shy to beg, Lizzie just waited by her empty bowl. Only when tripping over her did the woman grudgingly drop food into a dirty dish. No more sofa (too much fur), no windowsill (the plants!). Lizzie was banished to the hallway, on a gritty mat. She missed gentle hands. The woman recoiled from her touch, no matter how fastidiously Lizzie groomed.
One day, spotting Lizzies fur on her suede boots, the woman shrieked, brandishing a tea towel. Lizzie flattened against the wall, trembling. No one had ever yelled at her before. And still, her humans didnt return
So when the door creaked open, Lizzie left. She glanced back oncethen ran down the stairs, away from that place.
Now she was alone in the cold, exposed. No shelter. Somewhere, a pack of dogs roamed. For a second, she regretted leaving but she couldnt stay. That woman had left the door open for a reason.
Back in the flat, the woman stuffed Lizzies toys into a bin bag. She dumped the leftover food and bowls in after them.
Hearing barks, Lizzie hunched low and crept on. She didnt know where to go. But one thing was certainshed never be happy again.
Days blurred. She found makeshift shelter near a bakerys gate, where the night guards didnt shoo her away. Workers noticed the shy, elegant catbut Lizzie kept her distance. They left treats; she refused. Thirst forced her to drink from puddles, her belly aching. Her once-glossy coat grew matted, her face gaunt.
The workers tried to catch her, even using a fishing net. Lizzie bolted.
Wandering aimlessly, her paws led her home. The building door was ajar
She stared into the dark stairwell. Twenty slow minutes later, she reached her old doorlocked. Why had she come back? Maybe just to say goodbye.
Inside, a row erupted. Her owners had returned to find Lizzie gone. “She *ran away*,” the woman sneered. “You expect me to babysit a cat?”
“Ran away?” Her owners voice shook. “Then where are her things? Her bowls?”
“You should be *thanking* me!” the woman snapped. “Tom, tell her!”
But Tom, restraining his furious wife, just glared at his sister. He knew her crueltybut this?
A neighbour peeked out. “Lizzie! Oh, you poor love!” She rang the bell.
The door flew openpinched-lips woman stormed out. “Im *done* with you lot!”
And there stood Lizzies owner. With a strangled cry, Lizzie scrambled up her trouser leg, clawing her way into her arms.
“You came home,” her owner whispered, tears spilling as Lizzie buried into her, shedding fur on her clean clothes.
That night, curled between her humans, Lizzie realised shed been wrong. She *was* happy again.
