How Valentine The Cat Healed My Lonely Heart

The last Valentine’s Day was incredible. I had a guy who went all out to impress me. He showered me with gifts, took me on a lovely date, and we spent the evening watching a movie together. Our relationship was fresh, just a month old, and he was still in that phase of wanting to wow me.

But the way he disappeared from my life was just as striking. You’re with someone, everything seems fine. You haven’t insulted him or cheated; he didn’t stumble upon any compromising photos on his friend’s phone, and you didn’t run off with his best friend. Everything was good, yet one day he decided he was done. He vanished without a word or even a goodbye message. Just like that, he was gone.

So, that Valentine’s Day, I braced myself for loneliness. While friends were busy making plans and sharing what their boyfriends had in store for them, I kept to myself and stayed quiet.

Before couples could head out, the weather took a turn. The sky turned overcast with a 90% chance of rain. Lovers are determined; when they set their minds to something, not even rain can deter them. By 7 PM, the downpour began. A car pulled up in front of our house, and my younger sister dashed out into the rain to get in. I knew I’d see her the next day.

I stayed indoors, lost in novels and music.

Later, around 10 PM, I thought I heard a kitten crying, so I got up to investigate. I checked the kitchen, but it wasn’t there. I searched the other rooms, finding no sign of a kitten. Just as I was about to return to bed, the cries grew louder and more urgent. I looked outside and noticed the gate was open.

My sister might have left it ajar in her rush, or perhaps the strong wind had blown it open. It was pouring, and going out to search for a crying kitten didn’t seem wise, but the cries persisted.

I ventured outside to look for it. The poor kitten was trapped in the water runoff behind my window, nearly submerged and clearly in distress. I felt a twinge of fear—what if it scratched or bit me? Cats can be unpredictable. But I mustered my courage and picked it up. To my surprise, it was calm and relaxed. I brought it inside and dried it off with a towel. I asked, “Hey, where did you come from? Who’s your mother? How did you end up here?” It just sat there, staring at me, no longer crying.

At first, it trembled, but soon it stopped. I offered it some food, but it only sniffed it and walked away. I set it in the corner of my room and searched online for “How to care for a stray cat.” I tried all the tips I found, eager for it to eat something. I wanted to make it feel at home. Though it was a stray, it was in my room, and I felt responsible. Nothing worked, so I let it be. Eventually, it curled up and fell asleep.

I went to bed too. The next morning, when I woke up, it was still peacefully lying where I had left it. I made a cat sound, and it came closer. I said, “You arrived at just the right time. I was feeling lonely and lost in thought. Your cries caught my attention, and now you’re here with me. I’ll call you Valentine, and I’m your new friend.” It walked over and rubbed its cheek against my leg. I offered it food again, and this time it started to eat.

Valentine the cat has been my Valentine for the past three years. He’s now fluffy and bigger than when I found him. This Friday night, he’ll sit in the corner while I read. I’ll play some music, we’ll enjoy our favorite foods, and later watch movies together. Men may come and go, but a cat remains fluffy and loving.  

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