I didn’t expect to be out there for as long as I was.
They told me it would be a quick volunteer sweep—help the last few families evacuate, check some rooftops, the usual. I’d done this kind of thing before: throw on a vest, stay focused, get in, get out, move on.
But that morning felt different. Maybe it was the strange stillness in the air, or how the floodwaters had settled around the streets, as if they’d always been there.
We were just passing an abandoned strip mall when I heard it. At first, I thought it was debris or wind. But then, I heard it again—softer this time, and more desperate.
A meow.
I called out, but got no answer.
I stepped closer, scanning the debris and the rising water, trying to locate where the sound was coming from. The streets were eerily quiet, except for the occasional swish of water against overturned cars and the distant whir of helicopters. It was not a sound I expected to hear in the middle of a disaster.
“Hello?” I called out again.
And then I saw it—a tiny kitten, no bigger than my hand, clinging to a piece of wood floating just above the water. Its fur was soaked and matted, its wide, terrified eyes locked onto mine.
I hesitated. I hadn’t signed up to rescue animals, especially not during a flood. There were people to help, families to evacuate. But this kitten was right in front of me.
I’m not sure what made me act. Maybe it was the helplessness in its eyes, or maybe I just couldn’t leave it behind. Before I could fully process what I was doing, I found myself wading into the water, moving cautiously toward it.
The current wasn’t strong, but the water was deep enough to be dangerous. I didn’t want to lose my footing. But the kitten’s mewing was constant, urging me on.
I reached out and gently scooped it up, holding the tiny creature close to my chest. It squirmed, but I wrapped my jacket around it, trying to keep it warm.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, though I knew nothing about this was okay.
I waded back toward higher ground, heart racing—not just from the effort of crossing the rising floodwaters, but from the worry of what to do next. I couldn’t just keep carrying it around while trying to finish my evacuation. It was already a distraction.
Once I reached solid ground, I made my way to the nearest rescue vehicle. The firefighter in charge looked me up and down as I approached, holding the wet kitten to my chest.
“Got a casualty?” he asked with a half-smile.
“Just a kitten,” I replied. “Found it stranded in the water. Not sure what to do now.”
He shrugged. “Take it to the shelter down the road. They’ve got people set up for rescues. They’ll figure it out.”
I nodded, grateful for the direction. As I turned to leave, the firefighter called out to me.
“Hey, you did good. Not many would’ve bothered with something that small right now. People focus on the big stuff, but it’s the little things that matter, too.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just nodded and went on my way.
At the shelter, I handed the kitten over to the staff, who quickly checked it for injuries. They gave me a grateful nod, and I left without sticking around, not wanting to take up any more of their time.
I got back to my work, finishing up the evacuations and helping clear debris, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the kitten. Somehow, it felt like I’d done something more than just helping people escape the flood—I’d saved a life, even if it was just a tiny one. That, in itself, made everything feel a bit more meaningful.
The next day, I swung by the shelter to check in. I was in the area, helping out where I could, when a volunteer waved me over.
“Hey! You’re the one who found that kitten, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, good thing you did. The little guy’s a fighter. We’ve been calling him ‘Noah.’ He was in rough shape, but he’s already improving. If you’re interested, we’d be happy to let you adopt him once he’s ready. We can’t keep him long-term.”
I hadn’t even thought about adopting him. But the idea of leaving him at the shelter didn’t sit right with me. I had already formed some kind of bond with him, no matter how brief. I remembered holding him, his tiny heartbeat in my hands, knowing I was the only thing standing between him and the flood.
“I’ll take him,” I said, surprising myself.
The volunteer smiled. “Great! We’ll let you know when he’s all clear. You’ve earned it. He’s already taken quite a liking to you.”
That’s how I ended up with a tiny new companion—Noah, the kitten who had somehow found his way into my life amidst the chaos.
Life slowly returned to normal after the disaster, or at least as normal as it could get. But Noah and I became inseparable. He’d be there when I came home, curling up in my lap like he had always belonged there.
As months passed, Noah grew healthier, stronger, and more playful. It felt like everything I’d done to help him had come full circle. I had saved his life, and in return, he gave me comfort, companionship, and a reminder that even small acts of kindness matter.
Months later, the shelter called again. They had been going through their records and realized something—Noah wasn’t just any kitten. He was part of a rare breed that people were willing to pay a lot of money for.
But they weren’t asking for Noah back. No, the shelter’s surprise wasn’t just about his value as a pet.
They offered me a reward for my role in his recovery. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was unexpected. The funds were meant to support future rescues, and they wanted to make sure I was compensated.
That small reward didn’t change my life, but it made me realize that doing the right thing—no matter how small—could lead to something bigger. Not just in terms of tangible rewards, but in the gratitude I felt knowing I had made a difference.
The unexpected twist wasn’t just about helping Noah—it was about how, in doing so, I unknowingly set the stage for my own good fortune. It reaffirmed what I had already come to believe: kindness, no matter how small, always finds its way back to you.
So, if you ever face a choice—big or small—choose kindness. You never know where it will take you or how it might come back to benefit you.
Feel free to share this story if you think we all need a little reminder to do something good for someone (or something) else today.