It happened during a lunch break. I was heading back when I heard panicked meows coming from beneath a dumpster.
I stopped in my tracks, listening carefully, and followed the desperate cries until I found her—a tiny kitten, barely hanging on, hidden among the trash.
The street was surrounded by high walls, with no place for a mother cat to hide her litter. It became clear she had been abandoned by someone.
Later, coworkers mentioned they had heard the meowing that morning, but the kitten must have been there much longer—waiting for someone to notice her.
I rushed her to the vet, who gave me some tough news. The kitten was only about three days old, severely dehydrated, and very weak. “It’s going to be difficult for her to survive,” the vet said, “even if she accepts feeding.”
But giving up wasn’t an option.
For the next 24 hours, I tried everything to get her to drink, using a tiny pipette drop by drop. Finally, after countless attempts, she latched onto the bottle—and that little victory was enough to fuel my hope.
The days that followed were exhausting but rewarding. I bottle-fed her every two hours, day and night, making sure she had everything she needed.
Each feed brought her a little more strength, and with every passing day, her tiny body grew stronger.
Then, on day 10, a magical moment happened—she opened her eyes for the first time. Those bright little eyes were full of curiosity and determination, and I knew she was going to make it.
I already had a cat named Khajiit, but it didn’t take long for this little one to claim her spot in my heart.
What started as a random encounter beneath a dumpster became something so much more—a second chance at life for a kitten who had almost been forgotten.
Now, she’s thriving, surrounded by love, warmth, and a family that will never leave her behind. Some might call it luck, but I know it was meant to be.
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