cats
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A little feral creature arrives with claws, teeth, and every reason not to trust hands—then slowly discovers what softness can mean.
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At four in the morning, the babies sleep, the house belongs to silence, and Honey kneads the weight of the night out of a tired lap.
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Myst knows nothing about the past; she only knows these hands are gentle, this bed is warm, and closing her eyes here is safe.
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At two in the morning, cold coffee, laundry, and a judgmental cat hold up the same house motherhood keeps running through the dark.
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At four in the morning, every cat in the house has a role to play—and none of them involve letting their human sleep.
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At four in the morning, a kitten wages affectionate war on every available finger before curling into the softness she was searching for.
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A well-loved tortoiseshell beneath a streetlight pauses just long enough to share a little softness before returning to the home she already knows.
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A rescued kitten becomes a small, bright reminder that second chances can arrive on four paws and quietly turn into home.
Between Bruises & Blooms 