@MariaPandora I’ve always been a dog lover. But after I lost my last one—and not long after, my family—it felt like the silence was too loud and the heartache too deep to bring another pet into my life. So I stayed to myself for a while. That was, until October of 2018, when a small, scrappy kitten came into view. He showed up near the big white pine tree in my yard, drawn by the scent of some leftovers I’d tossed out that evening. For the next three months, he returned each night like clockwork, always darting away the moment he spotted me, gone like a bullet shot from a gun. Still, I started leaving food out for him, hoping he’d see I meant no harm. One night, I placed the dish on my porch instead of under the tree. And that was the night everything changed. He stayed. I named him Buddy. Less than a year later, fate sent another little soul my way—a beautiful tiger-striped stray who quickly stole my heart. My sister called her Miss Kitty, and the name stuck. Now, it’s the three of us. I didn’t go looking for company, but somehow it found me anyway—in the form of two whiskered wanderers who reminded me that healing doesn’t always arrive with a loud knock. Sometimes, it pads in quietly on tiny paws. Even a strum on a guitar has the power to heal, as odd as that may sound. Take care and GOD bless.
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