My name’s Misa… well, I don’t have one. No one ever gave me one. I was born behind a broken fence in a forgotten alley, my siblings mewing beside me, warm and safe for a while under our mother’s care. But fate played its cruel trick early—I couldn’t see. The world was always dark. I didn’t know the color of the sky or the softness of the stars. But I could feel warmth, I could hear laughter, and I could dream.
When my mother disappeared one day—perhaps taken, or lost—I was left all alone. I called for her. I waited. But she never came back. The streets grew colder. The hunger grew stronger. I wandered with cautious steps, bumping into walls, trying to follow scents. Some kind strangers threw me scraps, but most people shooed me away. Some children laughed, calling me broken. Others simply ignored me.
They couldn’t see past my clouded eyes.
Eventually, I was taken to a shelter. A place where cats waited for homes. A place full of hope for many… but for me, it was different. People would come, and I’d hear them walk past my cage. Sometimes, they’d stop. I’d perk up, trying to look my best. I’d purr softly, press my head against the bars, offering the only thing I could—my heart.
But then I’d hear it.
“Oh… he’s blind.”
And just like that, their footsteps would fade away.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. I remained. Always passed over. Always the one left behind. I began to wonder:
Is it because I’m blind that no one is willing to accept me?
Do they think I won’t play? That I won’t love? That I won’t bring joy into a home?
Because if they gave me just one chance… they’d see how gently I curl up in a lap, how I purr like a little engine when I feel safe, how I rub my head against their hand, memorizing their scent, loving them deeply, even if I’ve never seen their face.
I don’t need to see to feel love.
I don’t need to see to give it back tenfold.
Today, someone walked by again. Her voice was soft. She didn’t say much, but I felt her sit beside my cage. She didn’t rush. She didn’t flinch when she learned I couldn’t see. She simply whispered, “You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?”
For the first time in a long while, my little heart leapt. Could it be? Could someone finally see me… with their heart instead of their eyes?
Maybe today is the day I’ll finally go home.
Maybe… someone is willing to love me—not despite my blindness, but for everything I still am.
