A faint mewl reached Roberts ears. Glancing down, he spotted a tiny kitten, its mother desperately shielding it from a snarling dog.
He stumbled on the slick autumn pavement, his legs unsteady, his mind clouded by drink. The gloom inside him mirrored the dim streetlampsas if someone had shattered the lights in his soul.
Clutching a freshly opened bottle, he raised it to his lips, hoping the alcohol might dull even a fraction of the pain choking him. The same question echoed again: *Why me?* But he had no strength left to search for an answer.
Robert had once been a brilliant surgeon. His skilled hands had saved countless lives, even in the most hopeless cases. He worked tirelessly, fighting for every patient to the very end. To him, each operation was a battlefor health, for fate, for hope.
Newspapers praised him, news segments featured him, the city knew his face. None of it mattered. He didnt crave fameonly the chance to help. He turned down prestigious clinics, refused lucrative offers, remaining loyal to his hometown. His wife resented him for it. She shouted, accused, blamedbut Robert stood firm.
Then came the day she learned hed rejected another position in London. Their phone call spiraled into another row. She screamed that he was ruining their family. Their son was in the car with her, but even his presence didnt stop the torrent of accusations. She never saw the lorry pulling out of the side street.
Impact. Brakes. Court. Funeral. Emptiness.
Just as he raised the bottle, a bark cut through the air. Robert frowned, scanning the dim street. The wind lashed his face, but he spotted thema teenager with a snarling pitbull, taunting a cornered cat.
The cat hissed, arching its back, shielding something behind ita kitten.
“Have you lost your mind?” Robert roared, flinging the bottle aside and splashing through puddles toward them.
The boy spun, saw him coming, and yanked the dogs lead. Robert scooped up the trembling cat, cradling her to his chest. She struggleduntil a tiny mew sounded from below. The kitten.
Robert gently lifted the little one, placing it beside its mother. The cat stilled instantly.
“What kind of monster sets a dog on a helpless animal?” Robert glared at the boy. “If you were my son, Id tan your hide so you couldnt sit for a week! Wheres your father? Did he teach you this?”
The boys gaze dropped. “Dads gone,” he muttered.
Robert stiffened. The pain in the boys voice was unmistakable. In the half-light, he caught a tear streaking down the kids cheek. Stepping closer, he asked quietly, “You know what you did was wrong, dont you?”
The boy nodded, sniffing. “Mum got me Rex. I just wanted to see what commands he knew. Im sorry.”
“Whats your name?” Robert asked suddenly.
“Arthur,” the boy mumbled.
“Dont make that mistake again, Arthur. Understood?”
The boy nodded and vanished into the night.
Robert hurried home, cradling the cat and kitten. His flat was just minutes away. He laid them on the sofa, checking the catno serious wounds, but one paw was injured. She relaxed under his touch.
“Youre a beauty. And this little one takes after you,” he murmured, smiling.
He fetched a tin of tuna, setting it before them. The kitten purred as its mother nudged it to eat.
“Youre gentle Ill call you Grace,” he whispered.
Tucking them into a carrier, he rushed to the 24-hour vet clinic nearby.
“We need help!” he burst in.
A young woman approached. “Whats happened?”
Robert carefully lifted Grace out. “Her paws broken. I found her defending her kitten.”
The vet examined Grace. “Well need X-rays. Shell recoverthanks to you.”
Robert exhaled. “How could I walk away? That boys dog nearly killed her.”
The vet paled. “A pitbull?”
“Yes. You know him?”
She swallowed. “Hes my son.”
Roberts anger faltered. “After his father died, he fell in with the wrong crowd. I thought the dog might help”
Grace stayed at the clinic overnight. Robert returned the next day, and the day after, until she healed. The kittennow named Olivergrew bolder, chasing shadows around the flat.
Grace waited by the door each evening, greeting Robert with a chirp. His colleagues noticed the changehe smiled more, lingered less at the hospital.
Each vet visit became a chance to talk with VeronicaArthurs mother. Soon, she was just “Vera.” She confided in him: the struggles of raising a boy alone, the long shifts. She adored animals, but her late husbands allergies had forbidden them.
Rex, the pitbull, was poorly trained. Robert introduced a dog trainer, and soon, Rex became calmer. Arthur started visiting Robert, even joining him and Vera for weekends at Roberts cottage.
Three months later, Robert proposed.
They married quietly at home. Grace and Oliver eyed Rex warily, but the dog stayed still as Oliver sniffed him. Rex wrinkled his muzzlethen gently nuzzled the kitten.
“Olivers won him over,” Vera laughed.
Robert stroked Graces back. “No, she and Oliver saved *me*. They led me to you.”
Grace stretched, purring, as if to say: *My work here is done.*
**Sometimes, the smallest creatures mend the deepest woundsnot by grand acts, but simply by needing us.**
