Actually, it’s not raining anymore. It’s late at night and the downpour has just stopped. The street is still wet; and the leaves are still dripping.
On one of the pavement line, a big black ant was desperate to run away; with its tiny stick-like legs. The wet street is slippery, the cold is freezing, and the calamity above is relentless.
Calamity? It’s too cute to be one. It has wet fur, but round eyes and tail ringed; waving and in good spirits, patting and sweeping its hopeless prey.
“And why are you here?”
She does not answer. She was shaking and dirty, but when I put her back down, she has nowhere to go.
She only sits by my foot, and ponders which way to go.
Just then, the rain restarted, and she though she should better continue her journey.
I thought, she was going home, but there was no home. There was no porch for a shelter, there was only her and that empty path downhill, under the rain.
Yet her tail held high and dancing in the rain.
Isn’t that what life should be? It’s not about kicking the rear or breaking leg; it’s not about standing on top, hand on hip, laughing out loud, it’s not about being the best.
It’s about dancing in the rain, and giving the best.
It’s about walking the walk.
It’s about keeping on trying.
It’s about focusing on the dear and near, and keep standing, even after the fall.
So I ran after her, and asked if she would like the best I can offer: a crowded shelter, but it’s dry and warm.
Mountain spring water, and little food, but enough for everyone.
She followed me and let me dry her up.
She waits in line for the big ones and those who came first, then enjoys the bowl all by herself.
She is not sharing her mat, and taking charge of the baby milk, despite protest from the rightful owner(s).
And who can say no, to such a sweet face?
So she has her bowl, and the kittens has new one to share among them.
And we all live happily ever after, or so we hope, as long as our fundraiser does not falter.