Tommy had been cast out… Again. It was the third time in his short life. Somehow, luck never seemed to find him.
Hed just turned one, and already three families had thrown him out. Well, not thrown, at first theyd just handed him over from one house to another. But eventually…
In the end, they simply took him outside. Walked a little further from the house, opened up the big green wheelie bin, placed him inside, and hurried awayso he wouldnt find his way back. But Tommy didnt try.
He understood everything as soon as he saw the look on the mans face. The wife had been terribly upset when Tommy scratched their brand new leather sofa.
It was a very expensive piece. She delivered her judgement, and the husbandas usualjust nodded and agreed.
He tucked the one-year-old cat under his arm and walked to the rubbish bins at the end of the lane.
Tommy didn’t chase after him, didnt even try. He could see his sentence in the mans eyes and knew what it meant.
It was hopeless. They could have at least said goodbye, stroked him one last time, said sorry. But no.
It was so cold, so lacking in kindness; as if he was nothing more than a bag of rubbish to be tossed away.
Tommy sighed and began sniffing among the bins, searching for scraps. He chewed on some stale chicken bones. Afterwards, he sat down next to the big green bin. He turned his head towards the sun.
He squinted, but didnt turn away. He liked the warmth from that big golden disc above.
These were the very last rays of sunrays of summer, autumn, and even the coming winter. The brief warmth melted the thin ice crust.
But inside Tommy, something grew cold.
Evening fell, and then night, bitterly cold. The wind and frost went about their work.
The ginger cat was freezing. He had no idea where to go, or how to find shelter, so he curled up in a big pile of dead copper leaves. He shivered at first, teeth chattering, but as the wind cut through his thick fur, numbing him to the bone, a strange warmth crept over him, and the trembling stopped.
Some inner voice began whispering gentle words.
It lulled him, inviting him to close his eyes, to forget all the troubles and sadness.
“Just a bit tighter… and sleep. Sleep, sleep…”
He felt that warmth spread through his stiff little body.
It seemed so simple. All he had to do was give in, and the pain would pass. There would be peace at lastno more hurt, or hunger.
Tommy let out a final sigh and allowed himself to drift. What was the use in fighting? What was left to hope for? Tomorrow would bring him the same cold, the same hunger, the same longing to close his eyes and never open them again.
Far off, the streetlamps flickered to life. Tommy managed to glance at them one last time; he remembered watching their glow from a window. The ginger cat gathered their light for a final time, his eyes reflecting a tiny spark in the growing darkness.
That little flame caught the attention of a small ginger-haired girl. She was walking home with her father at her side. She tugged at his sleeve.
Look, she said, someones in those leaves.
Theres no one there, her father said, pulling his coat tighter. Come on, lets get home. Im freezing.
But the girl slipped from his grasp and knelt by the pile of leaves.
I saw it. I saw a light.
A light? In a pile of old leaves? her father replied. Impossible.
But the girl was already digging through them, uncovering the cold ginger cat beneath.
Dad! she called.
I told you. Look, its him.
Who? her father asked, joining her.
Look, the girl said, trying to lift the frosty little body.
Leave him, her father said gently. Hes gone, love. We cant bring home a dead cat.
Hes not gone, the ginger-haired girl replied with conviction. Hes alive. I saw the light in his eyes.
The light in his eyes? her father repeated, a bit sceptical.
He took a closer look, picked up Tommy and felt carefully for a heartbeat.
Tommy just wanted to keep sleeping. Hed settled into a deep slumber, warmth trickling into his bones, that voice in his head urging him to rest.
Sleep, sleep, dont open your eyes
But there, underneath it all, another tiny voice kept repeating, stubbornly:
Theres a light in his eyes
What do they want from me? Tommy wondered. Why wont they let me be? Why cant I just sleep?
He forced his eyes open, just a crack, to see themthose two, still disturbing his deep rest.
There! cried the girl. There, you saw it? The light! Again!
What light? her father said, but seeing the faint spark, wrapped his coat around Tommy, nodded to his daughter, and headed for home.
The girl hurried alongside. Dad, please, quick! Hes cold!
They disappeared up the steps, and soon, light shone from the fifth-floor flats window.
Tommy was soon washed with warm water and given heated milk to lap up. The girl hovered close, whispering:
Please dont die. Please, please, dont
And as the ice melted from his fur, it melted from his heart, too.
Tommy, the big ginger cat, watched in wonder as the father and his daughter fussed over him. Now, at last, he was truly warm.
Warmth flooded through himnot from any radiator, but from the tiny heart of the ginger-haired girl.
Outside, someone stood in the shadowsnot someone you see often, but one who comes when needed.
He watched the glowing fifth-floor window. He said quietly,
Everything I can… Everything I can.
He lingered a moment, then added thoughtfully,
Not everybody can see the light. Not everyone. And even those who see it, not all can keep it alive.
As Tommy gazed at the ginger-haired girl, he wasnt pondering the nature of humans, as people do. He thought of his own, simpler truth.
He had seen itthe light in her eyes.
Sometimes, the smallest glimmer of kindness can save a lost soul and bring warmth to the coldest of hearts. That is the real magic in the worldif only we choose to see it.
