Lonely pensioner, Wendy, has spent most of her life providing shelter cats with a forever home. When her newest pet, Lucky, starts bringing home dollar bills, Wendy quickly realizes something suspicious is happening in her neighborhood.
“There, there.” Wendy reached into the pet carrier and stroked the shorthair cat she’d just brought home from the shelter. “This is your new home, Lucky, where you’ll always be safe.”
Lucky peeped out at Wendy’s other four cats, who were sniffing curiously in the carrier’s direction.
“That’s just your new family.” Wendy scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Let’s see if you’ll be brave enough to get to know them over dinner.”
Wendy went to the kitchen. Four of the cats came running when she opened the tin of cat food. She set down their bowls and was about to take Lucky his food to eat in the carrier when he appeared at the door.
“Mah-ow,” Lucky mewed at her.
“What a brave kitty.” Wendy stroked the newcomer and gave him his food. “I knew you’d fit right in.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Wendy fixed herself a grilled cheese for dinner. While she ate, she lovingly watched the cats get to know each other. Although she couldn’t really afford another pet, Wendy hadn’t the heart to say no when her friend at the shelter called earlier that day.
“Nobody wants this cat,” Hannah had said. “They can’t see past his scars and age to the sweet personality beneath. If you don’t take him, Wendy, I don’t know what will become of him.”
“Feeding five cats is not that much different from feeding four,” Wendy reasoned.
“The most important thing is that Lucky has a good home to spend the rest of his life in.”
However, Wendy soon began noticing the difference it made to her budget. The cat food and litter ran out just a little bit faster, and her pension was already stretched a bit thin.
Wendy sat down one day to figure out how to continue without digging into her meager savings. While she crunched numbers, a painful meowing caught her attention. She hurried into the sitting room and immediately realized something was very wrong with Lucky.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“But will he be okay, Dr. Perry?” Wendy pressed her hand against the transparent box. Inside, Lucky lay curled in a ball with a drip attached to his leg. His eyes were dull with pain.
“We’re doing our best for him, Wendy, but it depends on what happens next. All we can do is pray that he responds to the medication.”
Wendy stared at Lucky. She wasn’t even confident she’d be able to pay for his treatments, but she couldn’t let him suffer either. She wished she could reach in and stroke him so Lucky would know he wasn’t alone.
“What do you want with my cat and me? If you’re trying to poison us then you won’t succeed. I’ve already called the police!”
“I can see he’s another of your rescues, Wendy, so I’m only going to bill you for any medication we need to give him.”
Wendy shook her head. “As I’ve told you before, Dr. Perry, I appreciate your kindness, but Lucky is my pet and my responsibility.”
The young vet frowned at Wendy. “I’m still going to keep offering, Wendy. You’ve done these cats a great kindness by taking them in, and I wish you’d let me help you ease the burden where I can.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Lucky returned home in good health a few days later, but something strange started happening. The Saturday after she brought Lucky home, Wendy discovered a few dollar bills lying on her doormat.
She assumed they’d fallen from her purse when she returned home earlier, but she found more money the next day. This time, it was lying on her bedroom floor.
“What is happening?” Wendy muttered as she counted the money. She checked her purse, but no money was missing.
On Monday, Wendy uncovered a new clue. She was knitting a cap for her friend, Hannah, when Lucky entered through the cat door with something in his mouth.
“You better not be bringing mice into my house, Lucky!”
Wendy rose to see what the cat had brought in. She gasped when he dropped a twenty-dollar bill.
“Where are you getting these?” Wendy asked. Lucky’s only response was to rub against her legs.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Wendy called Hannah to ask if she knew whether Lucky had ever done anything like this before. Hannah was just as stunned by the cat’s behavior.
“Maybe he’s decided to pay rent,” Hannah joked. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, Wendy. You know what they say: don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
However, Wendy couldn’t bear the thought of Lucky stealing from one of her neighbors, for that was the only way she could imagine he was getting the money. She decided to watch the cat and see what he was getting up to.
Wendy kept a close eye on lucky the next day. He played a little with Snowy, one of her other cats, then went to sleep beneath a bush in Wendy’s yard. He slept a lot in many different spots.
Wendy watched Lucky tap lazily at a fallen leaf in the front yard. She was beginning to think this endeavor was silly when a strange car pulled up near the front gate. A person climbed out and crouched near the picket fence.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Immediately, Wendy set her knitting aside and reached for her glasses, but they weren’t there! Rather than miss the meeting between lucky and his partner in crime, Wendy leaned closer to the window and narrowed her eyes.
Lucky ran toward the person, who picked the cat up and cradled him on their lap. Wendy couldn’t tell if they were young or old, male or female. The person was too far away, and a hood hid their face.
After playing with Lucky for a few minutes, the mystery person set the cat down and gave him something. The person then ran back to their car. Lucky entered the yard and bounded toward the house as they sped away.
Wendy grabbed the cat the moment he crawled through the cat flap. He was carrying a twenty-dollar bill!
“You aren’t supposed to play with strangers.”
Wendy lifted the bill to the light to examine it. “Your friend could well be up to no good!”
Lucky rubbed against her legs and looked up at Wendy. “Mah-ow.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The more Wendy thought about the situation, the less sense it made. She began to worry that the mystery person had bad intentions. They might even be planning to poison Lucky!
Wendy was waiting when the car stopped outside her house the next day. As soon as they seemed distracted by Lucky, Wendy burst through the front door wielding her cane.
“What do you want with my cat and me? If you’re trying to poison us then you won’t succeed. I’ve already called the police!”
“Don’t be so harsh on my accomplice. I’m sure he also would want to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown him.”
The mystery person scrambled to their feet, but Lucky, startled by the sudden outburst, hooked his claws into the person and ran up their shoulder. As Lucky leaped to the grass, he knocked aside the person’s hood.
Wendy gasped when she saw the face beneath the hood. She pointed at the person with her cane.
“Why on earth are you giving Lucky money?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry, Wendy.” Dr. Perry raised his hands and started backing away to his car.
“Stop right there. You aren’t going anywhere until I get an explanation, Dr. Perry.”
“I just wanted to help. You always refuse to let me waive a portion of your vet bills, so I had to try another way. Lucky gave me the idea, actually. When we were treating him, I tried to get him to play by sticking a piece of paper through a ventilation hole in his cage.”
Dr. Perry smiled and shook his head. “He grabbed the paper in his teeth and carried it to the other side of the cage. I’ve never seen a cat do that, and I realized I could use him to make donations to you.”
“Donations?” Wendy straightened up. “I am not a charity case!”
“No, you’re a good person who’s too proud to accept a helping hand, Wendy. But I had to find a way to help you because you’re one of the few people I’ve met who cares as deeply for animals as I do.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“You see, I was just like you when I was a child,” Dr. Perry continued. “I used all my pocket money to buy food for the stray cats and dogs in my neighborhood, and they eventually became my pets. I also rescued any injured birds I found, but that all stopped when my mom remarried.”
“My step-father took all my animal friends and dumped them in the forest.” Dr. Perry hung his head. “I tried to find them, but I never did. I never forgave him or my mom, either. When I left home to become a vet, I cut all ties with them.”
“That’s terrible.” Wendy wiped at a tear spilling down her cheek. “I understand why you want to help me, Dr. Perry, and I do need the help, but I’ve lived alone all my life. I don’t know how to accept your kindness. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I frightened you, Wendy.” Dr. Perry took Wendy’s hand. “Please, can we sit down and discuss a way I can help you care for your cats that won’t upset you?”
Wendy nodded. “Come inside. I have some pop if you don’t want coffee.”
Dr. Perry followed Wendy inside. Lucky was waiting at the door and greeted them with his usual ‘mah-ow’ and leg rub.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
After some discussion, Wendy agreed to let Dr. Perry bring food for the cats every month. He would also give each of her furry friends a check-up when he visited. That way, Wendy could continue enjoying her cats’ company without spending her entire pension on their care.
Dr. Perry also created a fundraiser to help with unexpected expenses, like Lucky’s sudden illness. Wendy wept with gratitude when Dr. Perry told her how successful the fundraiser was.
“Do you hear that, Lucky?” Wendy lifted the cat into her arms and scratched his chin.
“You’re set for life now. No need for any more dubious escapades on your part.”
Dr. Perry chuckled. “Don’t be so harsh on my accomplice. I’m sure he also would want to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown him.”
“I only wish there was more I could do for the cats in this city.” Wendy smiled as she listened to Lucky purring. “But I’m just one old lady, and there are only so many cats I can care for.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Two years later, Dr. Perry still remembered Wendy’s words on that day. He stood before the building he’d recently bought and converted into a shelter. Lucky was perched on his shoulder and seemed unperturbed by the small crowd gathered nearby.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Dr. Perry said. “While I’m happy to see so many familiar faces, it also saddens me that a woman I came to know as a close friend won’t be able to join us today.”
“Wendy spent most of her adult life providing a safe home to cats from shelters all over this city. To honor her memory, I hereby declare the Wendy cat shelter open for business.” Dr. Perry signaled to a man standing nearby.
The man lifted a cloth to reveal a portrait of Wendy with all five of her cats. Lucky was sitting on her lap, mouth open, as he begged for a treat. Dr. Perry had taken the photo himself, and it made him smile as he remembered that day.
“Wendy always wished she could do more to help the cats in our city. I’m counting on all of you to help me fulfil her dream by supporting this shelter.”
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t be too proud to accept help. Dr. Perry offered to help Wendy with the kindness of his heart. Instead of being so proud of her independence, Wendy should’ve taken his kind offer.
- Many beautiful dogs and cats are waiting in shelters for loving homes. Next time you’re thinking of getting a pet, pay a visit to your local shelter. Maybe your next furry friend is waiting for you there.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a stray dog who guards a boy lost in the woods.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life
My Landlord Kicked Us Out for a Week So His Brother Could Stay In the House We Rent
When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t much, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen is peeling so badly that I’ve started calling it “abstract art.”
An old house | Source: Pexels
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma, and Sophie, make it feel that way, with their laughter and the little things they do that remind me why I push so hard.
Money was always on my mind. My job as a waitress barely covered our rent and bills. There was no cushion, no backup plan. If something went wrong, I didn’t know what we’d do.
The phone rang the next day while I was hanging out laundry to dry.
A woman hanging laundry | Source: Pexels
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Nancy, it’s Peterson.”
His voice made my stomach tighten. “Oh, hi, Mr. Peterson. Is everything okay?”
“I need you out of the house for a week,” he said, as casually as if he were asking me to water his plants.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“What?” I froze, a pair of Sophie’s socks still in my hands.
“My brother’s coming to town, and he needs a place to stay. I told him he could use your house.”
I thought I must’ve misheard him. “Wait—this is my home. We have a lease!”
“Don’t start with that lease nonsense,” he snapped. “Remember when you were late on rent last month? I could’ve kicked you out then, but I didn’t. You owe me.”
An angry man talking on his phone | Source: Freepik
I gripped the phone tighter. “I was late by one day,” I said, my voice shaking. “My daughter was sick. I explained that to you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “You’ve got till Friday to get out. Be gone, or maybe you won’t come back at all.”
“Mr. Peterson, please,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
An expressive woman talking | Source: Pexels
“Not my problem,” he said coldly, and then the line went dead.
I sat on the couch, staring at the phone in my hand. My heart pounded in my ears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Lily, my oldest, asked from the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.
I forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Go play with your sisters.”
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Pexels
But it wasn’t nothing. I had no savings, no family nearby, and no way to fight back. If I stood up to Peterson, he’d find an excuse to evict us for good.
By Thursday night, I’d packed what little we could carry into a few bags. The girls were full of questions, but I didn’t know how to explain what was happening.
“We’re going on an adventure,” I told them, trying to sound cheerful.
A woman packing together with her daughter | Source: Pexels
“Is it far?” Sophie asked, clutching Mr. Floppy to her chest.
“Not too far,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
The hostel was worse than I expected. The room was tiny, barely big enough for the four of us, and the walls were so thin we could hear every cough, every creak, every loud voice from the other side.
A woman in a hostel | Source: Freepik
“Mama, it’s noisy,” Emma said, pressing her hands over her ears.
“I know, sweetie,” I said softly, stroking her hair.
Lily tried to distract her sisters by playing I Spy, but it didn’t work for long. Sophie’s little face crumpled, and tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Where’s Mr. Floppy?” she cried, her voice breaking.
A crying child | Source: Pexels
My stomach sank. In the rush to leave, I’d forgotten her bunny.
“He’s still at home,” I said, my throat tightening.
“I can’t sleep without him!” Sophie sobbed, clutching my arm.
I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, whispering that it would be okay. But I knew it wasn’t okay.
A woman hugging her crying child | Source: Freepik
That night, as Sophie cried herself to sleep, I stared at the cracked ceiling, feeling completely helpless.
By the fourth night, Sophie’s crying hadn’t stopped. Every sob felt like a knife to my heart.
“Please, Mama,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I want Mr. Floppy.”
I held her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
A crying girl | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’ll get him,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I didn’t know how, but I had to try.
I parked down the street, my heart pounding as I stared at the house. What if they didn’t let me in? What if Mr. Peterson was there? But Sophie’s tear-streaked face wouldn’t leave my mind.
A thoughtful woman in front of her house | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and walked up to the door, Sophie’s desperate “please” echoing in my ears. My knuckles rapped against the wood, and I held my breath.
The door opened, and a man I’d never seen before stood there. He was tall, with a kind face and sharp green eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking puzzled.
A man in front of his house | Source: Midjourney
“Hi,” I stammered. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m the tenant here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny inside, and I was hoping I could grab it.”
He blinked at me. “Wait. You live here?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. “But Mr. Peterson told us we had to leave for a week because you were staying here.”
A sad woman in the doorway | Source: Pexels
His brows furrowed. “What? My brother said the place was empty and ready for me to move in for a bit.”
I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “It’s not empty. This is my home. My kids and I are crammed into a hostel across town. My youngest can’t sleep because she doesn’t have her bunny.”
A sad young woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, and for a second, I thought he was angry at me. Instead, he muttered, “That son of a…” He stopped himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I had no idea. Come in, and we’ll find the bunny.”
A serious young man opening his door | Source: Midjourney
He stepped aside, and I hesitated before walking in. The familiar smell of home hit me, and my eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. Jack—he introduced himself as Jack—helped me search Sophie’s room, which looked untouched.
“Here he is,” Jack said, pulling Mr. Floppy from under the bed.
A pink stuffed bunny under a bed | Source: Midjourney
I held the bunny close, imagining Sophie’s joy. “Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Tell me everything,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of Sophie’s bed. “What exactly did my brother say to you?”
I hesitated but told him everything: the call, the threats, the hostel. He listened quietly, his jaw tightening with every word.
A couple talking | Source: Midjourney
When I finished, he stood and pulled out his phone. “This isn’t right,” he said.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
“Fixing this,” he said, dialing.
The conversation that followed was heated, though I could only hear his side.
A serious man on his phone | Source: Pexels
“You kicked a single mom and her kids out of their home? For me?” Jack’s voice was sharp. “No, you’re not getting away with this. Fix it now, or I will.”
He hung up and turned to me. “Pack your things at the hostel. You’re coming back tonight.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “What about you?”
“I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he said firmly. “I can’t stay here after what my brother pulled. And he’ll cover your rent for the next six months.”
A smiling man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
That evening, Jack helped us move back in. Sophie lit up when she saw Mr. Floppy, her little arms clutching the bunny like a treasure.
“Thank you,” I told Jack as we unpacked. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I couldn’t let you stay there another night,” he said simply.
A young child holding her toy | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, Jack kept showing up. He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen. One night, he brought over groceries.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I like helping.”
A man with groceries | Source: Pexels
The girls adored him. Lily asked for his advice on her science project. Emma roped him into board games. Even Sophie warmed up to him, offering Mr. Floppy a “hug” for Jack to join their tea party.
I started to see more of the man behind the kind gestures. He was funny, patient, and genuinely cared about my kids. Eventually, our dinners together blossomed into a romance.
A couple on a date night | Source: Pexels
One evening several months later, as we sat on the porch after the girls had gone to bed, Jack spoke quietly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking out into the yard.
“About what?”
“I don’t want you and the girls to ever feel like this again. No one should be scared of losing their home overnight.”
A young man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
His words hung in the air.
“I want to help you find something permanent,” he continued. “Will you marry me?”
I was stunned. “Jack… I don’t know what to say. Yes!”
A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels
A month later, we moved into a beautiful little house Jack found for us. Lily had her own room. Emma painted hers pink. Sophie ran to hers, holding Mr. Floppy like a shield.
As I tucked Sophie in that night, she whispered, “Mama, I love our new home.”
“So do I, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead.
A woman tucking her daughter in | Source: Midjourney
Jack stayed for dinner that night, helping me set the table. As the girls chattered, I looked at him and knew: he wasn’t just our hero. He was family.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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