My steps were quiet and calculated. What I intended to do was, I would jump-scare this feral cat, who was sitting in one corner of our garage,
"Perhaps if I don't move, this lady will not notice me." is the vibe I was getting from her.
I was staring at her ears and the back of her head. She can feel my presence advancing toward her.
I didn't care about cats.
After Sophie passed away a few months prior, I unconsciously shifted all my attention to my four dogs. It was Jino, my youngest son, who made an effort to befriend this single-fanged kitty.
We decided to call her Rabiya. Every morning she would come by, asking for nothing but Cuties Catz food. She would let out a soft cry and follow me rubbing her body on my legs.
Her visit to our home has become frequent as time went by. Sometimes she would bring a friend or two, too.
Eventually, this meek and quiet cat started becoming loud. She would let out a "meow" that sounded like she was begging for your help. It's as if she's telling you a story about how tough her life has been, and she's hoping that you can save her from her current struggles.
She may look mean in her photos, but she really is a sweet cat. Needless to say, we finally decided to adopt her. She has lived with us for almost three years now.
Here she is now.
Rabiya has maintained her sweet nature over time. She's taken on the role of a firm yet caring mother figure to the three other cats we recently adopted.
My son, Jino, believes that we don't get to choose the cats we adopt—instead, they choose us. It seems fitting, considering all our rescue cats found their way to our home on their own accord.
