I’m sorry that this may be a sad post, but for me it is also one filled with hope. In the short time that I’ve known her, this kitten has come to mean so much to me, and I want to share her story.

Last week I was volunteering at an animal shelter and I met a tiny stray kitten who had suffered a traumatic brain injury. When I first saw her, she was unsteady on her feet, walked in circles, and had one eye permanently dilated. I hoped that, with time and supportive care, she might gradually recover. Since then I’ve been in regular contact with the veterinarian caring for her, and unfortunately her condition has declined. She’s circling more frequently now, and there is concern that she may soon begin having seizures. If she can stabilize over the next week or so, the shelter has said I may be able to foster her. In the meantime, I’ve offered to come in each day just to hold her, keep her warm, and make sure she spends as much time as possible feeling safe and loved.

I have become far more attached to this little kitten than I ever expected. I keep thinking about how young she is and how unfair it feels that she may never get the chance to simply be a kitten. She should be learning to play, exploring, and growing into her own personality, not struggling just to stay on her feet. It’s difficult not to imagine what she might be experiencing or wonder whether she’s frightened or confused. I know I am already doing everything I can, but I hope that my presence can at least make her days a little less lonely and a little more comfortable.

I’m trying to remain hopeful while also preparing myself for the possibility that she may not recover. Whatever happens, I want her to know kindness for as long as she’s here. If she improves enough to come home with me, I’ll do everything I can to give her a happy, fulfilling life despite whatever disabilities she may have. If she doesn’t, then I hope the time she had was filled with warmth, gentle touch, and the feeling that she was loved.

It is hard for me to accept what might happen before I’ve had a chance to intervene, so I keep reminding myself that compassion is not measured by if we change an outcome, but by how we have stood beside those whom the outcome approaches.