The streets have been my world for as long as I can remember. I don’t know where I came from, and I’ve long forgotten what it feels like to be held or called by a name. My days begin with the sound of traffic and the ache of an empty stomach. I wander through alleys and dusty corners, searching for scraps of food—maybe a half-eaten sandwich, a dropped piece of chicken, anything that might keep me going. Some days, I find something. Other days, I go to sleep with the pain of hunger curling deep inside me.
When the rain falls, everything becomes harder. My fur gets soaked and heavy, my paws freeze against the cold concrete, and I curl beneath the nearest piece of shelter I can find—a broken crate, an abandoned box, the corner of a stairwell. I close my eyes and pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere dry, warm, and safe.
Sometimes, I pause outside windows. I see other cats inside—clean, well-fed, their fur shining under the soft glow of lamps. I watch them stretch out on fluffy pillows or curl in their owner’s laps. I hear laughter, soft music, and the quiet sound of love that fills those rooms. I don’t know what that feels like. I’ve never had someone of my own. No one has ever called me theirs.
People pass me every day. Some look away. Others wrinkle their noses or shoo me off. I know I don’t look like much—my fur is dirty and matted, my eyes tired. I’ve been scratched by other strays, bitten by hunger, and beaten down by the cold world. But I’m still here. I’m still waiting.
I don’t want much. Just a warm place to sleep. A name that means something. A voice that calls to me kindly. I dream of someone who sees past my ragged appearance, who kneels down and whispers, “Come here, little one. You’re safe now.”
I don’t want to be just another forgotten cat in a forgotten alley. I want to be someone’s companion. I want to know what it feels like to be loved.
So each day, I wait. I wait with hope, even if it hurts. Because maybe, just maybe, someone out there is looking for a cat like me—a cat with no name, but with a heart full of quiet longing.
