I am Raven: when love showed up for me.A kitten's story.
- adel621
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
Written by one of our awesome foster dads. We honour all our volunteers who pour out their love on our most vulnerable kittens. And we honour our kittens - the reason why we do what we do!
I don’t remember my mother’s face very clearly.
I remember warmth… and then cold.
I remember darkness that hurt.
When I arrived in May 2025, I was very small—just 190 grams. Small enough that the world felt too big and too loud. My eyes burned all the time. They never closed properly because my eyelids didn’t grow the way they should have. I didn’t know that then. I only knew that blinking didn’t help, and the light always hurt.
There were four of us at first.
We were sick. Our eyes were infected, sticky, swollen, painful. We didn’t have the strength to cry properly, but we tried. And then hands picked us up—gentle hands. Warm hands. For the first time, I felt safe.
Nights were long after that.
Every four hours, like clockwork, the human woke up. I could smell the milk before I felt the bottle. I didn’t know what time it was—only that I was hungry, and someone always came. Even when the house was quiet. Even when it was dark. Even when I was scared.
My eyes needed special care. Every day, lotion was placed gently into them so they wouldn’t dry out. It wasn’t pleasant, but it helped. I learned to trust those hands completely. They never rushed. They never stopped, even when I wriggled.
One of my brothers didn’t make it.
I remember the warmth leaving the room. I remember the silence after. I didn’t understand death—but I understood that something was missing. The human cried. I felt it in the way I was held tighter that night.
My other two siblings survived, but the sickness changed them. Their eyes didn’t line up the way they should. They were cross-eyed, the vet called it—caused by the infection and by being born too early. We were all a little different. A little broken. But we were alive.
Time passed quietly.
I grew. Slowly. Carefully. I learned what comfort felt like. What safety felt like. I learned that pain didn’t always mean abandonment. Sometimes it meant care.
One day, strangers came.
My siblings were picked up, admired, chosen. One by one, they left. I watched from my bed. People looked at me too—but then they noticed my eyes. They hesitated. They put me down. They chose someone else.
I stayed.
In January, I went for my first treatment. The doctors burned away some of the hair follicles around my eyes so they wouldn’t keep scratching and irritating them. It sounded scary. It was uncomfortable. But afterward… it felt better. Less burning. Less pain. I was brave. I always am.
I’m still here.
I may never look like the kittens in the pictures people share online. My eyes tell my story before I get the chance to. But I survived. Because someone woke up every four hours. Because someone didn’t give up when it was exhausting. Because CatsRus believes that lives like mine matter—even when they’re hard, even when they break your heart.
I am Raven.
And I am alive because love showed up when no one else would - Raven
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