Beep. Beep. Be— I reluctantly turned off my alarm, annoyed and still half-asleep. Waking up to the sticky embrace of Manila’s humid weather was never a good start for me. Cold sweat clung to my clothes just like yesterday—another day locked down in the pandemic.
I wanted nothing more than to drift back into my dreams, but the oppressive heat made that impossible. “Okay, okay,” I muttered, phone in hand as I forced myself out of bed.
Outside, the dry, wilting plants looked as if they were begging for mercy. “Oh no, I forgot to water them yesterday,” I gasped, the realization jolting me fully awake.
Worried my mother would notice, I rushed downstairs and headed for the garden. Lock and key in hand, I opened the dark green gate. The hinges let out a soft squeak from overworn joints. But before I could step outside, I saw it.
A kitten. Small and unassuming. Weak and unmoving. Ants circled him, their trails marking prey and territory. And a few steps away, there I was—frozen.
A wave of discomfort washed over me as ignorance and inexperience took over. I didn’t know what to do. We never had pets, apart from the occasional bird or fish my mother fancied. But they never meant much to me. So what was I supposed to do now?
“Shoo, shoo,” I whispered, stomping my feet lightly. Nothing.
“Hey, what do kittens normally eat?” I messaged my friend, snapping a quick photo while I was at it.
While waiting, I gently closed the gate, leaving a small gap between us. I studied him, wondering what might be going through his mind. Did he like his orange fur? Did he know the ants were all over him? Or maybe—Ping!
“If you don’t have cat food or boiled chicken, try a can of sardines for now,” my friend replied, snapping me back to the moment.
So I did. On a small, fish-shaped dish, I spread a generous chunk of sardines, mashed gently into mush. Carefully, I placed it in front of him. Slowly, a smile formed as I watched him move.
“He’s eating it!” I told my friend excitedly. Who knew the morning would take such a turn?
“Later, I’ll give you chicken. Stay here, okay?”
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
I caught myself checking on him again and again, amused by his growing playfulness and sudden bursts of energy. No patch of gravel was left unturned, no leafy shade left unslept. And with each passing day, I found myself looking forward to tomorrow.
Boom!
Thunder ripped across the bleak, dark sky, dragging me out of sleep. Rain hammered the pavement, each heavy drop rattling my window.
“Oh no, I hope he’s okay!” I cried, leaping out of bed and rushing downstairs.
I flung the gate open as wide as I could. He slipped inside, his tiny wet paws marking the grey pavement. Like a small tiger, he bounced around his new shelter, curiously inspecting each nook, ignoring the chaos of the storm outside.
“You’re safe now,” I whispered as he hurried behind the makeshift bed I’d prepared, finally noticing I was there.
Smiling, I found it almost magical—how an unassuming little creature could turn reluctance into curiosity, tolerance into love. Sometimes, one unexpected encounter is all it takes for life to shift. For the first time, I understood what it meant to truly care.
“Since the first thing you ate was a can of sardines… how about I call you Sardine?”
Today, Sardine rules the house like he always belonged. He chases his siblings, demands petting on his terms, and sprints across the room whenever he smells his favorite food. I smile at how far we’ve both come—how I now know the difference between proper cat food and the emergency sardines I once offered, how caregiving has quietly reshaped me into someone more attentive, more informed, more present. He’s still the same small tiger I met that day—just with more confidence, more mischief, and sans the ants.
I used to think I wasn’t an animal person. But the truth is, I was simply waiting for the right one to prove me wrong.
