The faintest mewl reached Roberts ears. Glancing down, he spotted a tiny kitten, its mother desperately shielding it from a snarling dog.
His feet stumbled over the slick autumn pavement, his head foggy from drink. Inside, he felt as grim as the eveninglike someone had smashed all the lanterns in his soul.
He clutched a freshly opened bottle, about to take a swig, hoping the alcohol might dull even a fraction of the ache choking him. The same question circled his mind: *Why me?* But he was too exhausted to search for an answer.
Robert had been a brilliant surgeon. His skilled hands had saved countless lives, even in the direst cases. He worked himself ragged, fighting for every patient. Each operation was a battlefor health, for hope.
Newspapers wrote about him. He appeared on the telly. Strangers recognised him in the streets. None of it mattered. He didnt want famejust the chance to help. He turned down offers from prestigious London hospitals, refused hefty salaries, and stayed loyal to his hometown. His wife despised him for it. She screamed, accused, but Robert stood firm.
Then came *that* day. Shed learned hed rejected another London position. The argument over the phone spiralled. She shrieked that he was ruining their family. Their son was in the car with her, but even his presence didnt silence her rage. She never saw the lorry pulling out.
Impact. Skidding tyres. Court. A funeral. Emptiness.
The bottle was halfway to his lips when a bark cut through the wind. Frowning, Robert scanned the dim street. Under a nearby archway, a lanky teen was baiting a snarling pitbull towards a trembling tabby.
The cat hissed, arching its backbut Robert spotted the tiny shape it shielded. A kitten.
“Oi! What the hell dyou think youre doing?” he roared, hurling the bottle aside and splashing through puddles toward them.
The boy spun. Seeing Robert charging, he yanked the dogs lead and stumbled back. Robert scooped up the trembling cat, cradling her against his chest. She writhedthen he heard the faintest squeak. The kitten.
Gently, he settled the little one beside its mother. The tabby instantly stilled.
“Are you mad? Setting a dog on a defenceless caton a *mother*?” Robert glared at the boy. “If you were mine, youd be sore for a week. Wheres your dad? This what he teaches you?”
The lad ducked his head. “Aint got one,” he muttered.
Robert stiffened. The raw pain in the boys voice was unmistakable. In the gloom, he caught the glint of a tear.
“You know this was wrong, yeah?”
A nod. A sniff.
“Mum only got me Brutus last month. Just wanted to see what he could do.” The boy scuffed his trainer against the pavement. “Wont happen again.”
“Your name?” Robert asked abruptly.
“Arthur.” The boy hesitated, eyeing the man clutching the cats.
“Dont make choices youll regret, Arthur. Understood?”
A silent nod, and the lad vanished round the corner.
Shaking his head, Robert hurried homejust minutes away. Still cradling the tabby and kitten, he trudged upstairs to his flat and carefully settled them on the sofa.
The cat had no visible wounds, but one paw hung oddly. Robert stroked her head. She leaned into his touch.
“Gorgeous, you are. And this little one takes after you,” he murmured.
He fetched some pâté from the fridge, and the pair devoured it. Afterward, the mother began grooming her kitten, and Robert smiled.
“Sweet thing Sweetie. Thats your name.”
He tucked them into a gym bag, shrugged on his coat, and rushed to the all-night vet clinic down the road.
“We need helpnow!” he blurted, bursting inside.
A young woman hurried over. “Whats happened?”
Robert gently unzipped the bag. “Found her outside. Paws broken, I thinkmaybe displaced.”
The vet took Sweetie. “Well need X-rays. She can stay overnightthen well transfer her to a shelter”
“*My* Sweetie? Not a chance. She and the kitten are mine.”
The vetVeronica, her badge readnodded. “Wait here, then.”
An hour later, a nurse returned the kitten. “Healthy, just mild conjunctivitis. Drops for a few days.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving them.”
Two hours later, Veronica reappeared with Sweetie. “Surgery went welldisplaced fracture, but weve pinned it.” She studied him. “Youre Dr. Robert Aldridge, arent you? The surgeon?”
“Will she recover?”
“Absolutely. You saved her life.”
Robert exhaled. “Couldnt just leave her. That lads dog nearly tore her apart, and she still shielded her kitten.”
Veronica paled. “A pitbull?”
“Yeah. Know the boy?”
Her voice dropped. “Hes my son. Since his dad died, hes been lost. I got him Brutus, hoping itd help.”
Robert softened. “Ill talk to a matetrains dogs. Might sort Brutus out.”
Over the next fortnight, Robert doted on Sweetievet visits, strict feeding schedules. The kitten, a little tom, earned the name Duke.
Soon, they ruled the flat. Sweetie greeted Robert at the door with loud meows. Colleagues noticed the changehe smiled more, even showed off photos of Dukes antics.
Each vet visit became a chance to chat with Veronica”Nicky,” now. She confided in him: the struggles of single parenthood, gruelling shifts. She adored animals, but her late husbands allergies had forbidden them.
Roberts kennel-mate trained Brutus. Arthur started visiting, even joined them on trips to Roberts cottage. Three months in, Robert proposed. Nicky said yes.
They married at home, a small gathering. Sweetie and Duke eyed Brutus warilybut the dog lay patiently as Duke rubbed against him.
“Dukes charmed him,” Nicky laughed.
Robert shook his head. “*They* brought me back to life.”
Sweetie stretched, purring as he scratched her belly.
“Because of her, I found you,” he murmured. “Now weve got a proper family.”
The tabby cracked one eye, whiskers twitchingalmost like a smile. Her job was done. Shed brought them happiness.
