I never expected my job to be at risk over something so small—literally. Yet, there I was, sitting in my boss’s office, wondering if I would still have a job.
It all began a few weeks ago when I was on my usual metro ride to work, mentally preparing for my upcoming lessons. The train was crowded, with people hustling in all directions, when I heard a soft, desperate sound. I scanned the platform and saw a tiny, trembling kitten, barely the size of my hand, huddled on the tracks.
Without thinking, I leaped onto the tracks, scooped the kitten into my arms, and made it back to the platform just in time for the train to speed by. My heart raced, but I felt no regret. The kitten was alive, though dirty and scared, and I wrapped it in my scarf before continuing on to work.
By the time I got to the university, I realized I had a problem. My schedule was packed, and I had no time to take the kitten to a vet or find someone to help. So, I made a snap decision: I would keep it in my bag, feed it between classes, and hope it would be safe until I could figure something out. I ordered cat formula online for delivery to my office.
During the first day, I bottle-fed the kitten during my breaks. It hardly made a sound, except for a few tiny meows when it was hungry. Most students noticed and, surprisingly, a few offered to help take care of it between lessons. But not everyone was amused.
Among my students was a group of entitled, privileged individuals who believed their wealth and status made them exempt from rules and responsibility. They barely participated in class and expected to pass without doing any work. Over the years, I had rejected their attempts to bribe me with lavish gifts or promises from their powerful parents. They didn’t like me, and I didn’t care.
So when they saw me feeding the kitten, I knew it wouldn’t be long before they used it against me.
A week later, I found myself sitting in the principal’s office. He was sitting behind his large desk, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
“There have been complaints, professor,” he said. “Some students claim you’ve been distracted in your lectures.”
I clenched my fists, already knowing who had complained.
“I assure you, my lectures are still effective,” I replied. “Those who actually pay attention aren’t having any issues.”
The principal sighed. “Perhaps, but we have to take student complaints seriously. You’ve built a reputation as being strict but fair. Why would you suddenly allow distractions in your classroom?”
I hesitated. Should I tell him the truth? Would it even matter? Just as I was about to respond, a soft “meow” came from my bag.
My heart skipped a beat. I slowly unzipped it, revealing a small, sleepy kitten curled inside. The principal’s eyes widened.
“What… is that?”
I sighed. “This is Geronimo. I rescued him from the metro tracks two weeks ago. I didn’t have the heart to leave him, and I’ve been feeding him between classes.”
There was a long pause. Then, the principal’s expression softened.
“You named him Geronimo?”
I nodded. “It seemed fitting, considering how I found him.”
To my surprise, the principal smiled. “I have five cats at home,” he said. “I’ve rescued them all. This little guy reminds me of one of them.” He looked at Geronimo, who was now snuggled in my scarf. “I take it the students who complained are the ones who already had issues with you?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
The principal sighed again, but this time, it was different. “Look, I should technically reprimand you, but honestly, you’re one of the best professors here. If this were really interfering with your work, I’d have a lot more complaints, not just from a few spoiled kids who can’t appreciate discipline.”
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “So… what now?”
He smiled. “Take care of Geronimo for now, but try to find him a proper home soon. And keep doing what you do best—teaching.”
I left his office feeling more confident than ever, with Geronimo purring softly in my bag. The students who had tried to get me fired never brought up their complaints again, especially after the rest of the class rallied behind me.
A week later, I found Geronimo a loving home with one of my students, a kind girl who had grown attached to him. As for me? I continued teaching, more determined than ever. Doing what’s right is always worth standing up for.
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