Lonely pensioner, Wendy, has spent most of her life providing shelter cats with a forever home. When her newest pet, Lucky, starts bringing home dollar bills, Wendy quickly realizes something suspicious is happening in her neighborhood.
“There, there.” Wendy reached into the pet carrier and stroked the shorthair cat she’d just brought home from the shelter. “This is your new home, Lucky, where you’ll always be safe.”
Lucky peeped out at Wendy’s other four cats, who were sniffing curiously in the carrier’s direction.
“That’s just your new family.” Wendy scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Let’s see if you’ll be brave enough to get to know them over dinner.”
Wendy went to the kitchen. Four of the cats came running when she opened the tin of cat food. She set down their bowls and was about to take Lucky his food to eat in the carrier when he appeared at the door.
“Mah-ow,” Lucky mewed at her.
“What a brave kitty.” Wendy stroked the newcomer and gave him his food. “I knew you’d fit right in.”
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Wendy fixed herself a grilled cheese for dinner. While she ate, she lovingly watched the cats get to know each other. Although she couldn’t really afford another pet, Wendy hadn’t the heart to say no when her friend at the shelter called earlier that day.
“Nobody wants this cat,” Hannah had said. “They can’t see past his scars and age to the sweet personality beneath. If you don’t take him, Wendy, I don’t know what will become of him.”
“Feeding five cats is not that much different from feeding four,” Wendy reasoned.
“The most important thing is that Lucky has a good home to spend the rest of his life in.”
However, Wendy soon began noticing the difference it made to her budget. The cat food and litter ran out just a little bit faster, and her pension was already stretched a bit thin.
Wendy sat down one day to figure out how to continue without digging into her meager savings. While she crunched numbers, a painful meowing caught her attention. She hurried into the sitting room and immediately realized something was very wrong with Lucky.
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“But will he be okay, Dr. Perry?” Wendy pressed her hand against the transparent box. Inside, Lucky lay curled in a ball with a drip attached to his leg. His eyes were dull with pain.
“We’re doing our best for him, Wendy, but it depends on what happens next. All we can do is pray that he responds to the medication.”
Wendy stared at Lucky. She wasn’t even confident she’d be able to pay for his treatments, but she couldn’t let him suffer either. She wished she could reach in and stroke him so Lucky would know he wasn’t alone.
“What do you want with my cat and me? If you’re trying to poison us then you won’t succeed. I’ve already called the police!”
“I can see he’s another of your rescues, Wendy, so I’m only going to bill you for any medication we need to give him.”
Wendy shook her head. “As I’ve told you before, Dr. Perry, I appreciate your kindness, but Lucky is my pet and my responsibility.”
The young vet frowned at Wendy. “I’m still going to keep offering, Wendy. You’ve done these cats a great kindness by taking them in, and I wish you’d let me help you ease the burden where I can.”
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Lucky returned home in good health a few days later, but something strange started happening. The Saturday after she brought Lucky home, Wendy discovered a few dollar bills lying on her doormat.
She assumed they’d fallen from her purse when she returned home earlier, but she found more money the next day. This time, it was lying on her bedroom floor.
“What is happening?” Wendy muttered as she counted the money. She checked her purse, but no money was missing.
On Monday, Wendy uncovered a new clue. She was knitting a cap for her friend, Hannah, when Lucky entered through the cat door with something in his mouth.
“You better not be bringing mice into my house, Lucky!”
Wendy rose to see what the cat had brought in. She gasped when he dropped a twenty-dollar bill.
“Where are you getting these?” Wendy asked. Lucky’s only response was to rub against her legs.
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Wendy called Hannah to ask if she knew whether Lucky had ever done anything like this before. Hannah was just as stunned by the cat’s behavior.
“Maybe he’s decided to pay rent,” Hannah joked. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, Wendy. You know what they say: don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
However, Wendy couldn’t bear the thought of Lucky stealing from one of her neighbors, for that was the only way she could imagine he was getting the money. She decided to watch the cat and see what he was getting up to.
Wendy kept a close eye on lucky the next day. He played a little with Snowy, one of her other cats, then went to sleep beneath a bush in Wendy’s yard. He slept a lot in many different spots.
Wendy watched Lucky tap lazily at a fallen leaf in the front yard. She was beginning to think this endeavor was silly when a strange car pulled up near the front gate. A person climbed out and crouched near the picket fence.
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Immediately, Wendy set her knitting aside and reached for her glasses, but they weren’t there! Rather than miss the meeting between lucky and his partner in crime, Wendy leaned closer to the window and narrowed her eyes.
Lucky ran toward the person, who picked the cat up and cradled him on their lap. Wendy couldn’t tell if they were young or old, male or female. The person was too far away, and a hood hid their face.
After playing with Lucky for a few minutes, the mystery person set the cat down and gave him something. The person then ran back to their car. Lucky entered the yard and bounded toward the house as they sped away.
Wendy grabbed the cat the moment he crawled through the cat flap. He was carrying a twenty-dollar bill!
“You aren’t supposed to play with strangers.”
Wendy lifted the bill to the light to examine it. “Your friend could well be up to no good!”
Lucky rubbed against her legs and looked up at Wendy. “Mah-ow.”
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The more Wendy thought about the situation, the less sense it made. She began to worry that the mystery person had bad intentions. They might even be planning to poison Lucky!
Wendy was waiting when the car stopped outside her house the next day. As soon as they seemed distracted by Lucky, Wendy burst through the front door wielding her cane.
“What do you want with my cat and me? If you’re trying to poison us then you won’t succeed. I’ve already called the police!”
“Don’t be so harsh on my accomplice. I’m sure he also would want to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown him.”
The mystery person scrambled to their feet, but Lucky, startled by the sudden outburst, hooked his claws into the person and ran up their shoulder. As Lucky leaped to the grass, he knocked aside the person’s hood.
Wendy gasped when she saw the face beneath the hood. She pointed at the person with her cane.
“Why on earth are you giving Lucky money?”
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“I’m sorry, Wendy.” Dr. Perry raised his hands and started backing away to his car.
“Stop right there. You aren’t going anywhere until I get an explanation, Dr. Perry.”
“I just wanted to help. You always refuse to let me waive a portion of your vet bills, so I had to try another way. Lucky gave me the idea, actually. When we were treating him, I tried to get him to play by sticking a piece of paper through a ventilation hole in his cage.”
Dr. Perry smiled and shook his head. “He grabbed the paper in his teeth and carried it to the other side of the cage. I’ve never seen a cat do that, and I realized I could use him to make donations to you.”
“Donations?” Wendy straightened up. “I am not a charity case!”
“No, you’re a good person who’s too proud to accept a helping hand, Wendy. But I had to find a way to help you because you’re one of the few people I’ve met who cares as deeply for animals as I do.”
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“You see, I was just like you when I was a child,” Dr. Perry continued. “I used all my pocket money to buy food for the stray cats and dogs in my neighborhood, and they eventually became my pets. I also rescued any injured birds I found, but that all stopped when my mom remarried.”
“My step-father took all my animal friends and dumped them in the forest.” Dr. Perry hung his head. “I tried to find them, but I never did. I never forgave him or my mom, either. When I left home to become a vet, I cut all ties with them.”
“That’s terrible.” Wendy wiped at a tear spilling down her cheek. “I understand why you want to help me, Dr. Perry, and I do need the help, but I’ve lived alone all my life. I don’t know how to accept your kindness. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I frightened you, Wendy.” Dr. Perry took Wendy’s hand. “Please, can we sit down and discuss a way I can help you care for your cats that won’t upset you?”
Wendy nodded. “Come inside. I have some pop if you don’t want coffee.”
Dr. Perry followed Wendy inside. Lucky was waiting at the door and greeted them with his usual ‘mah-ow’ and leg rub.
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After some discussion, Wendy agreed to let Dr. Perry bring food for the cats every month. He would also give each of her furry friends a check-up when he visited. That way, Wendy could continue enjoying her cats’ company without spending her entire pension on their care.
Dr. Perry also created a fundraiser to help with unexpected expenses, like Lucky’s sudden illness. Wendy wept with gratitude when Dr. Perry told her how successful the fundraiser was.
“Do you hear that, Lucky?” Wendy lifted the cat into her arms and scratched his chin.
“You’re set for life now. No need for any more dubious escapades on your part.”
Dr. Perry chuckled. “Don’t be so harsh on my accomplice. I’m sure he also would want to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown him.”
“I only wish there was more I could do for the cats in this city.” Wendy smiled as she listened to Lucky purring. “But I’m just one old lady, and there are only so many cats I can care for.”
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Two years later, Dr. Perry still remembered Wendy’s words on that day. He stood before the building he’d recently bought and converted into a shelter. Lucky was perched on his shoulder and seemed unperturbed by the small crowd gathered nearby.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Dr. Perry said. “While I’m happy to see so many familiar faces, it also saddens me that a woman I came to know as a close friend won’t be able to join us today.”
“Wendy spent most of her adult life providing a safe home to cats from shelters all over this city. To honor her memory, I hereby declare the Wendy cat shelter open for business.” Dr. Perry signaled to a man standing nearby.
The man lifted a cloth to reveal a portrait of Wendy with all five of her cats. Lucky was sitting on her lap, mouth open, as he begged for a treat. Dr. Perry had taken the photo himself, and it made him smile as he remembered that day.
“Wendy always wished she could do more to help the cats in our city. I’m counting on all of you to help me fulfil her dream by supporting this shelter.”
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t be too proud to accept help. Dr. Perry offered to help Wendy with the kindness of his heart. Instead of being so proud of her independence, Wendy should’ve taken his kind offer.
- Many beautiful dogs and cats are waiting in shelters for loving homes. Next time you’re thinking of getting a pet, pay a visit to your local shelter. Maybe your next furry friend is waiting for you there.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a stray dog who guards a boy lost in the woods.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life
I Was Humiliated at a Restaurant for My Age – So I Planned My Revenge
At 82, Everly faced discrimination when she was told she was “too old” and dressed “inappropriately” for a trendy restaurant. In response, she made a Facebook post that went viral, sparking outrage and calls for change.
My name is Everly, and I love trying new things, even at my age. One Thursday morning, my daughter Nancy surprised me with a visit to my garden shop. She suggested, “Mom, let’s try that new restaurant downtown!” Her excitement made me eager to go.
We both dressed simply; I wore a floral blouse and khaki pants, and Nancy was in jeans and a T-shirt. For us, it was about spending time together, not how we looked.
As we drove to the restaurant, we talked about how excited we were to make new memories. But our simple outing took an unexpected turn.
When we entered the restaurant, we were greeted by loud music and chatter. The place was lively, filled with a younger crowd who were stylishly dressed, making us feel out of place. Still, we didn’t mind; we were there to enjoy ourselves.
However, as we stepped inside, I noticed the host looking us over. His smile faded for a moment before he led us to a table by the window. It was a nice spot, but our experience quickly changed.
A young waiter came over, and while he initially seemed polite, his attitude shifted as he noticed our appearance. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding less than sincere, “but this place might not be suitable for you.” His words stung.
He continued, “You seem too old for our usual clientele, and your outfits aren’t appropriate for the vibe here.” Nancy turned red with anger, and I felt a deep sadness at being judged for my age and how I looked.
The waiter wasn’t done. He said we had to leave “so as not to spoil the appetite of our guests.” Before we could respond, he signaled two bodyguards who came to escort us out.
The embarrassment was overwhelming. I felt the eyes of other customers on us as Nancy squeezed my hand tightly. We quietly left, feeling hurt and rejected.
Outside, Nancy was furious. She took out her phone and snapped photos of the bodyguards. “We need to share this, Mom. People should know how they treat others,” she insisted.
Later, in her kitchen, we posted the pictures on Facebook. Nancy shared our story, highlighting how we were judged unfairly because of our age and appearance. She tagged the restaurant and asked her friends to spread the word.
The post quickly went viral, with thousands of shares and comments. People expressed their shock and shared their own experiences with ageism. The restaurant’s ratings plummeted as customers voiced their disapproval.
Amid the uproar, Mr. Thompson, the restaurant owner, reached out to me. He was shocked and apologetic about the incident. “Mrs. Everly, I’m so sorry. I had no idea this happened,” he said, revealing that the waiter was his son.
He invited me back for a complimentary meal and offered a personal apology. I appreciated his honesty but told him, “It’s not just about a meal. It’s about how people are treated.”
Mr. Thompson agreed and said he had talked to his son about respect for all customers, regardless of their age or attire. He emphasized that his son would not inherit anything until he understood these values.
Our conversation was hopeful. It showed a willingness to make amends and recognize the need for change. As we ended the call, I felt validated yet still aware of the larger issue of ageism.
A week later, I dressed in my best silk dress—a deep blue that highlighted my eyes. I was ready to return to the restaurant, not as a victim, but as a woman who deserves respect.
Entering the restaurant again, the door chimes felt louder this time. The atmosphere was the same, but I felt empowered. Mr. Thompson welcomed me with a warm smile and took me to a lovely table by the window.
The waiter, Mr. Thompson’s son, approached me with hesitation. “Mrs. Everly, I’m very sorry for how I treated you last time. It was unkind,” he stammered, looking genuinely remorseful.
His apology seemed sincere, and Mr. Thompson added, “My son and I have discussed this situation. I made it clear that we must respect all customers, no matter their age or how they dress. He will not be part of this business if he doesn’t embrace those values.”
Satisfied with their commitment to change, I enjoyed my meal. It tasted wonderful and felt like a celebration of respect and understanding.
After returning home, I posted an update on Facebook. I shared photos of the meal and the apologies I received. “Change is possible,” I wrote, “when we stand against injustice and those in the wrong are willing to listen and learn.”
Reflecting on this experience, I realized the power of one voice amplified by social media. It was about more than just a meal or an apology. It was a reminder that everyone deserves respect, regardless of age or appearance. This ordeal showed me the strength of my voice and the importance of standing up for my values.
As I reflected on the entire experience, I felt a sense of empowerment. This journey taught me that standing up for myself and others can lead to meaningful change. The response from the community reminded me that many people share the same struggles and that we must support one another in the fight against ageism and discrimination.
I continued to receive messages of support from friends and even strangers who appreciated my story. It was heartwarming to see how a single act of injustice could spark conversations about respect and dignity for everyone, regardless of age.
In the weeks that followed, I became more active in my community, attending local meetings and advocating for inclusivity. I wanted to ensure that no one else would face the same humiliation I did. I also kept in touch with Mr. Thompson and his son, encouraging them to foster a culture of respect in their restaurant.
Through this ordeal, I learned that our voices can make a difference, and our experiences, no matter how painful, can lead to positive change. I felt grateful for my daughter Nancy, who stood by my side and took action when it mattered most. Together, we had turned a hurtful moment into a powerful opportunity for growth and understanding.
As I walked through my garden one sunny afternoon, I smiled, knowing that I had turned a painful experience into a catalyst for change. I looked forward to more adventures with my family, always reminding myself that age is just a number and that everyone deserves to be treated with kindness and respect.
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