We do street feeding daily. We keep getting different cases. All cases we can not share with you on youtube. There are some cases like Simba’s case or coco’s case or Lusi’s case that we haven’t shared on youtube yet. If you want to see that too, you can check it out on Instagram.
It started like any other Tuesday morning. I was rushing to my car, latte precariously balanced in one hand, when a flash of fur darted towards me. It was a stray cat, a scrawny calico with wary eyes, but today, she was surprisingly bold. She leaped onto the hood of my car, landing with a soft thud, and stared directly at me.
Now, I’ve always been a soft touch for animals. But this was different. There was a palpable urgency in her gaze, a silent plea that tugged at my heartstrings. She meowed, a raspy sound, and then nuzzled her head against the windshield, as if trying to point me in a certain direction.
I cautiously put down my coffee and approached her. “Hey, there, girl,” I murmured, offering a tentative hand. She sniffed it cautiously, then leaned in for a scratch. The moment I touched her, she seemed to relax, purring like a tiny motor.
Following a gut feeling, I decided to follow her. She hopped off the car and trotted down the street, glancing back occasionally as if to make sure I was still there. We walked for a block, then another, until she led me to an overgrown patch of weeds behind a local grocery store.
And there they were. Hidden amongst the discarded cardboard boxes and tangled vines, were four tiny kittens, no bigger than my fist, huddled together for warmth. Their eyes were barely open, and they mewed softly, a chorus of tiny, helpless cries.
The calico, their mother, nuzzled them gently, then looked back at me, her eyes filled with an emotion I could only describe as gratitude. It was clear. She was asking me to take them home.
My heart melted. I couldn’t leave them there. The kittens were vulnerable, exposed to the elements and the dangers of the street. So, I did the only thing I could do. I raced home, grabbed a carrier, and carefully scooped up the tiny furballs. The mother cat, who I later named Calypso, watched me, her tail twitching nervously, but she didn’t resist.
The car ride home was a symphony of tiny meows. Calypso paced anxiously in the backseat, her eyes glued to the carrier. I promised her they would be safe, hoping she understood.
Now, my apartment is a bustling kitten sanctuary. The kittens, whom I’ve affectionately named Leo, Luna, Pepper, and Shadow, are thriving. They’re playful, curious, and rapidly growing into mischievous little fluffballs. Calypso is slowly shedding her street cat shell, learning to trust and enjoy the comforts of a warm home and a full food bowl.
