Tommy was cast out. Again. The third time in his short life. Luck had never favoured the poor creature.
Only a year old, and already three families had turned him away. Well, not exactly turned him awayfirst, they passed him from hand to hand. And then.
Then they carried him out beyond the house, set him down by the dustbin in the neighbouring yard, and hurried off so he wouldnt find his way back. Not that he would have tried.
He understood. Immediately. The mans face had said it all. The wife had been terribly upset when Tommy ruined their brand-new leather sofa.
Extremely expensive. She had passed the sentence. And the husband? Well, what could he do? He always agreed with everything.
So he tucked the one-year-old cat under his arm and marched him off to the rubbish heap. Tommy wouldnt have run after him even if he could. No, he wouldnt have. He had seen the verdict in the mans eyes and knew.
It was hopeless. A kind word would have been somethinga gentle stroke, an apology. But thisthis felt like emptying a bucket of refuse.
Tommy sighed and nosed through the waste for scraps, gnawing at old bits of chicken. He clambered out and sat beside the great green bin, gazing at the sun.
He squinted but didnt look away. The warmth of that bright golden circle pleased him.
These were the last rays of summer, autumn, winter. A brief thaw. The ice on the pavement melted.
But inside Tommys heart, it froze.
The evening and night were bitter. After sundown, the wind and frost set to work.
The ginger tom froze. He hadnt a clue where to go or how to shelter, so he burrowed into a pile of rust-coloured leaves, curling tight. At first, he shivered violently, but then
Then, when the winds icy breath stiffened his fur, the trembling stopped. A voice deep within whispered soft words.
Words that lulled him, urging him to close his eyes and forget all sorrows.
*”Tuck in tighter, and sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep.”* He felt warmth too.
Warmth spreading through his stiff little body.
It was so simple. Just surrender, and everything would fade. Peace would comeno more hurt, no more pain.
Tommy sighed one last time and agreed. Why fight? What for?
Tomorrow would bring the same cold, the same hunger, the same longing to shut his eyes and never, never wake again.
The streetlamps flickered to life in the distance. Tommy looked at them one last time. He had often watched their glow from his window. Now the ginger tom drank in their light, his eyes flashing in the gathering dark.
That final glimmer caught the attention of a little red-haired girl walking home with her father. She tugged his sleeve.
*”There,”* she said. *”Theres someone in the leaves.”*
*”Nobodys there,”* her father muttered, hunching against the cold. *”Come on, lets get home. Im freezing.”*
He tried to steer her away from the dark mound, but the girl shrugged stubbornly.
*”I saw it. I saw the light.”*
*”Light? In a pile of dead leaves?”* Her father frowned. *”Thats impossible.”*
Yet she was already there, brushing aside the top layerand there he was. A ginger cat.
*”Papa!”* she cried.
*”I told you. Its him.”*
*”Him who?”* Her father stepped closer, puzzled.
*”Him,”* she said, lifting the stiff little body.
*”Leave it,”* her father said. *”Its dead. We cant take a dead cat home.”*
*”Hes not dead,”* the red-haired girl insisted. *”I know. I saw the light in his eyes.”*
*”Light in a cats eyes?”* He shook his head but bent closer, pressing a hand to its chest, straining for a heartbeat.
Tommy only wanted to sleep. So badly. The warmth wrapped around him, and the voice inside murmured,
*”Sleep, sleep, sleep Dont open your eyes.”*
But that thin, stubborn little voice kept repeating,
*”The light in his eyes.”*
*”What do they want? Why torment me now? Why wont they let me rest?”*
With effort, he forced his eyes open.
*”There!”* The childs voice rang out. *”See? I told you! The light!”*
*”What light?”* Her father sighedbut then he shrugged off his coat, wrapped the small ginger body inside, and turned toward home.
His daughter hurried alongside.
*”Papa, faster! Hes so cold!”*
They vanished into the building, and soon, a light glowed in a fifth-floor window.
Tommy was bathed in warm water and fed warm milk. The girl
The girl pleaded with him.
*”Please dont die. Please dont.”*
The ice on his fur melted. The ice in his heart melted too.
And the great ginger tom watched in wonder as father and daughter fussed over him. He was awake now, and for the first time, truly warm.
Not from the radiatorsbut from the little girls heart.
Outside, a figure stood. The one who sometimes comes to help.
He watched the glowing fifth-floor window and murmured,
*”All I can do. All I can.”*
After a moment, he added,
*”Not everyone sees the light. And not all who see it can keep it.”*
Tommy, gazing at the red-haired girl, didnt think of human greatness. Such thoughts are for men.
He only saw the light.
The light in her eyes.
