Jack wandered behind a row of buildings in the city on one of the coldest nights of winter. The lights seemed to flicker with doubt as he looked for a quiet place to sleep. His breath hung in the air like smoke, and the cold made every part of him hurt. His coat, which was ripped at the seams and missing a few buttons, didn’t do much to keep the wind from blowing through the city. He has learnt to live this way every night, but it never gets any easier. You learn to deal with how horrible it feels.
He heard it while walking around the back of a coffee shop that was closed. It was a feeble, fractured sound that didn’t sound like anything else in the city. It wasn’t a person or a vehicle. It was smaller and not as strong. He stopped, turned his head, and heard it again. There came a soft, almost silent mew. Jack was frightened and wanted to know what was going on, so he sat down next to the garbage and moved wet cardboard and old papers out of the way until he found her.
She was a kitten, and she was barely bigger than his forearm. She was drenched, shaking, and having a hard time lifting her head. Her eyes were crusty, her fur was thin and patchy, and she took short, rapid breaths. Her ribs sprang out of her skin like thin twigs, and her body looked lifeless, like it was losing vitality.
Jack didn’t use his head. He didn’t think about it. He unbuttoned his coat, pulled her close, and enveloped her in the inside fold of it. He hugged her to his chest so she could feel how warm he was. He said softly, “I got you,” and rocked her back and forth like you would a scared child. He wrapped her up like a secret to keep her warm in the harsh wind.
That night, he didn’t sleep too well. He was often looking to see if she was still alive. He felt both bizarre comfort and something else with every soft breath she took. He now felt like he had a purpose.
He called her Hope.
Jack did everything he could to help her out over the next four days. He tore off small pieces of the sandwiches people gave him and soaked them in water to soften them so she could eat them. He would rinse off a plastic cup and fill it with fresh rainwater. Then he would use that water to bathe her face and paws. As she snuggled up to him at night, her body shook less and less. Her purrs, which used to be weak and scratchy, got stronger and more steady.
They helped each other. Jack cared for Hope, and Hope gave Jack something he hadn’t felt in a long time: a connection. She noticed him in a world that didn’t see him very often. And most importantly, she needed him.
Hope would sit on his shoulder or in his coat while he asked for money during the day. People stopped to touch her. Some folks added an extra cent to his cup. A lot of folks just walked by. But she was always there, and her soft fur helped him feel a little better in his otherwise hard and uncertain life.
One morning, Ellen observed Jack and Hope sitting on the sidewalk outside a bakery, sharing a piece of bread. She was on her way to work with a cup of coffee in her hand when she saw Jack carefully breaking up crumbs and putting them on a napkin for the kitten in his lap. He talked to her softly, as if the world had stopped and it was just the two of them. Ellen stopped.
“You’re taking good care of her,” she said.
Jack looked up, surprised that someone was talking to him. “She saved me first,” he added.
The way he said it stuck with her. She wanted to know his name and whether he had a place to sleep that night. He really didn’t want to. Ellen didn’t feel sorry for him; she respected him. She could tell they cared about each other. It’s rare to be that nice, especially when you don’t have anything.
She came back later that day, but not with any money. Instead, she brought something far more useful: information on a local shelter that aided homeless people who didn’t want to be separated from their pets. Jack didn’t believe it, but the expression in Ellen’s eyes made him think it was. Ellen told him that the refuge was safe.
That was it for him.
The shelter changed. A vet examined at Hope, gave her immunizations, and stated she was “a little underweight, but tough as nails.” Jack had a nice bed, regular meals, and counselors who didn’t just give him advice; they also listened to him. Pay attention.
He didn’t have to sleep with one eye open for the first time in years. He didn’t have to choose between getting food for himself and getting food for Hope. There was no danger for them. Together.
Jack got job readiness training and support hunting for employment during the next few months. He was honest about how he ended himself on the street after losing his job multiple times, having a bad landlord, and not having any family to aid him. But he never spoke up. He just said, “I am alive.” I want to live now.
In the end, he landed a job as a maintenance worker at a nearby housing complex. The job didn’t pay well, but it was steady. He used his first few earnings to get a small apartment that allowed dogs. When he picked up the keys and said, “We’re home,” he looked down at Hope, who was curled up in his jacket like she always did.
Hope’s favorite spot is on the windowsill, where she can view the birds. She’s in good health, loves to play, and is very devoted. Jack says she still wakes him up every morning before dawn, meowing for food and a scratch on the head.
They didn’t start their journey in a comfortable or easy way. They had to do it out of necessity, in the cold, and to stay alive. But that one small act of kindness—when Jack gave his only warmth to something smaller than him—started everything.
Jack doesn’t see himself as a hero. He claims he did what everyone else should have done. But one simple choice to care made everything different.
You can still give even if you don’t have anything. You could find something to live for if you give.
