A thin voice whispered in the darkness of a London flat, Im starvingno, Im famished. The cat, Kylie, had been feeling that way for three long weeks, ever since the house had turned inexplicably quiet.
Everything had once been ordinary. She lived like a queen in a tidy terraced house, never refusing a saucer of milk or a morsel of fresh fish, always demanding the newest cat food, the soft cheese, the vitamin tablets. Then, on a bleak morning, she awoke to an empty bowl. The mouse that lived behind the stove stared, waited, and then sulked, but the emptiness only grew.
A faint ringtone echoed from the upstairs bedroom, once, then again. Curious, Kylie slipped into the room and found her owner collapsed on the carpet. The sound of keys jingled, a door burst open, strangers swarmed in, lifted the woman and vanished. The door slammed shut, leaving Kylie alone in the hollow flat, hunger gnawing at her ribs.
Water ran from the tap, but water, she knew, could not fill a belly. Later, wandering the streets, she realized water was a treasure tootrudging from bin to bin, finding only stale bread, no puddles, thirst rising like a tide. Yet in the flat she had wailed, sobbed, begged for food, and nobody came.
On the fifth day a new group of strangers slipped in. Kylie leapt to the doorway, meowing pleadingly, but they brushed her aside. One bent down, snatched her by the scruff, and tossed her into the stairwell. Shocked and starving, she hid in a corner until night fell, then, driven by desperation, she climbed the stairs up and down, the corridors empty, the lights dim, the silence heavy. She wept until the firstfloor door opened. She dashed toward it, only to be grabbed by a sleepy passerby who shoved her out onto the street, into the cold night.
Now alone in an unfamiliar world she had only ever watched through a window, Kylie thought fear could no longer touch her. Yet the sensation of terror lingered, like a cold draft. Thirst drove her to a grimy puddle; the water smelled of oil, but she drank until the sour taste turned her stomach. A rotten smell rosespoiled leftovers. She gnawed at a crust, and the hunger eased a fraction.
A rival cat hissed from a shadow, tail flicking, ready to strike. Kylie retreated, heart pounding. Dogs prowled, and she clambered up a lamppost to escape. People, irritated by her cries, hurled stones. How she survived was a mystery even to herself, and how long she could keep it up was unknown.
Her oncegleaming coat dulled with grime; constant licking left only dust and bits of broken glass caught in her fur, a thin trickle of blood staining her tongue. She cared little whether she lived or not.
She reached a park where fewer cats roamed. Humans strolled with dogs, and she hid in trees, scavenging crumbs from park benches at night. Today she perched high, evading a large dog, and after half a day she descended, eyes sharp, hunting through cut grass. Luck turned when she spied a halfeaten bun and a tiny sausage slice, which she devoured hastily, eyes darting.
Now only water remained. She spotted a spot where people had been drinking; some water still clung to the ground. Just as she lunged, a human moan rose from nearby. She turned awaypeople had hurt her beforebut curiosity pulled her closer.
Near a bench, an elderly man lay on the trimmed lawn, eyes closed, a soft groan escaping his lips. Kylie approached, sniffed his face, and noticed a tiny buzzing object on the grassher former owner’s handheld device, fallen when he collapsed. The man strained, fingers trembling, trying to reach it.
Kitty, help me! he croaked, scraping at the ground.
Kylie nudged the gadget with her paw, again and again, until it finally settled into his hand. A faint buzz rose as the device lit up.
Dad, where are you? Why didnt you answer? a young voice called.
Im in the park, near the big flowerbed. I fell. Couldnt reach my phone, the old man whispered back.
Hold on, were coming, the daughter promised.
Grateful, the man chuckled, Thank you, little catyouve saved me.
Footsteps echoed; the pair hurried away, and Kylie slipped back into the shadows, still thirsty and hungry.
Days passed. She lingered in the park, living one sunrise to the nextperching in trees by daylight, scrounging the ground by night. Rain fell one afternoon; she shivered, but the wet world made water easier to find.
A week later, the same voice called out, I fell right here, and the cat was here.
It must have been our cat, not a stray, the daughter said. She seemed domestic once.
They called her KitKitKit, their soft chant drifting through the leaves. Kylie heard it but stayed hidden.
The mans voice, warm and familiar, reached her earslike the tone her former owner used when coaxing her to try a new treat. Though she didnt grasp the words, the timbre soothed her, recalling a time when a gentle hand coaxed her to eat.
She crept from her perch. The man spotted her.
Marina, there she is. Be careful, dont startle her, he whispered, easing a packet of cat food from his coat.
Kylies nose twitched; the scent of fresh kibble flooded her senses. She lunged, devouring the morsels in seconds, purring like a tiny engine. Good girl, thank you for saving me! the man cooed, reaching out.
Come with me; I wont hurt you. Want to live with us? he asked.
His words wrapped around her like a blanket of safety. She brushed her head against his hand, purring louder than ever, feeling the gentle strokes of his fingers and those of a young woman who joined them.
It was extraordinary.
They took her from the park, bathed her, fed her, and the next day brought her to a vet.
What happened to her? the vet asked.
The owner died, an elderly lady, the man explained sadly. The heirs tossed the cat outwhat a shame for a purebred.
Now shes ours, the man said, kneeling. Shell never be on the streets again.
He looked at Kylie, smiling. So your name is Kylie, huh? Nice to meet you again.
The vet gave her vaccinations; Kylie stayed still, finally understanding that help had finally arrived.
