I was driving home from work, tired and ready to relax, when I heard it—a faint, high-pitched meow coming from the side of a busy road. At first, I thought I imagined it. But then I heard it again, louder and more desperate. I pulled over, my heart racing.
Cars zoomed past as I stepped out and followed the sound. And there, tucked between a patch of grass and the concrete curb, was a tiny, helpless newborn kitten. Its eyes were still shut, and its fur was matted and dirty. It was so small, it could fit in the palm of my hand. It was all alone, meowing loudly, as if calling out for its mother.
I couldn’t leave it there. I gently picked the kitten up and wrapped it in a soft cloth I kept in my car. It stopped crying almost instantly, as if it knew it was safe now. I drove straight to the vet, heart pounding, praying this little soul would survive.
The vet said the kitten was likely only a few days old and very lucky to be alive. They gave it formula and helped clean it up. I stayed by its side, already feeling a strong connection. I didn’t plan on adopting a kitten that day—but somehow, it felt like fate.
Over the next few weeks, I bottle-fed it every few hours, helped it learn to walk, and watched it grow stronger each day. I named the kitten “Lucky,” because that’s exactly what we both were—lucky to have found each other.
Today, Lucky is a playful, affectionate ball of energy who follows me everywhere. You’d never know she once lay crying on the side of a busy road. Adopting her was one of the most unexpected, but beautiful choices I’ve ever made.
Sometimes, all it takes is one moment to change a life—hers, and mine.
