⏱ ~3 min reading
It all started with the rain. All day long, drops were drumming on the window - thin, endless. Ulyana was sitting with her mother in the kitchen, drinking hot tea with lemon. It smelled of zest and honey.
Towards evening the rain stopped. The sun came out - low, reddish, like a ruddy apple barrel.
"Mom, can I go out? Just for a minute.".
"Only in rubber boots. Everything is wet.".
Ulyana put on her rubber boots—pink, with a hare on the front. Her jacket. She went out onto the porch. The air smelled fresh—wet grass, nettles, apple bark, asphalt that gave off the last warmth of the day.
She avoided puddles. In one she saw her reflection with a bunny on her boot.
As I passed by an old bench near the basement, I heard something. A faint sound. Like a squeak. I stopped. The squeak repeated.
Ulyana bent down. She looked under the bench. There — in the very corner, by the brick wall — sat a kitten. Wet. Small. Gray, with a white spot on its chest. Eyes — blue, like the sky after rain. The squeak was so thin that it made her heart clench.
"Don't be afraid. I'm good.".
She squatted down right in the puddle—she didn't notice. She held out two fingers. The kitten sniffed the air—so wet that it shivered. Suddenly—weakly—it licked. Its tongue was warm. Like a rough drop.
Ulyana carefully picked up the kitten with both hands. It weighed almost nothing — like a feather. She pressed it against her jacket. It clung to her and didn't resist. It just trembled.
Ulyana ran home.
— Mom! Mom!
Mom saw.
— Oh, you, just a little.
— Mom, he's shaking.
Mom took a towel — soft, still warm, just off the radiator. She wrapped the kitten in it. She wiped it off. She brought a saucer of warm milk. The kitten slurped — fast, almost choking.
"Mom," Ulyana whispered. "Can he be ours?"
— Ulyanochko. First, we need to check if he's lost. Maybe the owner is looking for him. Second, a kitten is a job. Not a toy.
"I will. I promise.".
"I'll think about it. Now let's put it in a box.".
At the bottom was an old sweater, very soft. In the corner was a bowl of water. The kitten curled up and immediately fell asleep. It was breathing rapidly. Like a toy motor.
The next day, my mother made an announcement. She took a picture and wrote: "Found a gray kitten with a white spot. Near the house. If it's yours, please respond." They hung it in the entrance, in the home chat Viber.
For two days, no one responded. Ulyana fed the kitten with a pipette — her mother bought special milk at the pharmacy. The kitten became more and more lively. It played with the string. It climbed onto her lap.
On the third day, mom came into the room where Ulyana was reading a fairy tale aloud to the kitten (let her get used to the words).
— Ulyana. Dad said, let's leave it.
Ulyana jumped up. The kitten fell from her lap too, and fell onto the blanket, softly.
— Really?!
"True. If the owner can't be found, he's ours. Shall we name him?"
Ulyana looked at the kitten.
— Rain.
— Why Rain?
"Because I found it after the rain. And because it's small, like a drop.".
Mom smiled.
— Nice.
The rain grew. He stopped shivering. He loved sitting on the windowsill and watching the real rain outside. Sometimes Ulyana would sit next to him, stroke his warm back, and think: "What if I hadn't bent down then? What if I had walked past?"«
The rain was purring. Thick, like a small engine. And Ulyana knew: it was good that she bent down. Very good.
💡 Every living thing is looking for a home — and sometimes home comes through one small decision.