Last April, I encountered a small, scruffy cat on the street that marked the beginning of an unexpected journey. He looked pitiful and dirty, a tiny creature alone and wary. As soon as I crouched down, he cautiously approached me, meowing in what seemed like a plea for food. His fur was matted and messy, and he guarded his food bowl with a sense of possession that tugged at my heartstrings.
We had some cat food in our car, and my husband went to fetch it while I stayed to comfort the little guy. His tuft of fur hanging beneath his neck was especially endearing, despite its disheveled appearance. Though I already had two cats at home, I was hesitant to get too close, worried about potential diseases.
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