In the rubble of a city flooded and eaten away, there showed up, after long last, a small, quavering form-an orange tabby drenched to the bone, meowing weakly for help. Its eyes were wide with fear, but they shone with the weakest light of recognition.
She waded the water through the ruins, having her heart race in her chest. Her home was gone, her world torn apart by this disaster, yet there was one thing that made her still go on: a hope to find her precious cat, Whiskers.
She called out his name, her voice no more than a whisper above the roar of the floodwaters. Then, through the murky haze, she saw him. Whiskers limped toward her, his fur matted, his little body shaking.
“Whiskers!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.
He had stopped, suddenly cautious, as if deciding whether or not to trust her, then in an instant he had bolted into her arms. Sarah knelt in the water, holding him tightly against her chest, as he purred weakly, his body still shuddering. She held him close, her voice sobbing the words, “I thought I lost you. I thought I lost everything.
And in that moment, among all that devastation, something warm stirred within Sarah. Amongst all this loss, all this death, her love for this little creature-and his love in return-had survived the flood.
As the storm clouds broke above her head, she knew that whatever the times ahead held, they did have each other. And that would do.
