Benny got the boot. Again. The third time in his short life. He just couldn’t catch a break.

Harry was shooed outagain. The third time in his brief, bewildering existence. Luck had never lingered long for him.

He had barely turned a year old, yet three families had already cast him away. First they passed him from hand to hand, then finally they carried him to the back garden, set him down beside the rubbish bin and fled, making sure he could not find his way home. He didnt look for it, though.

He understood instantly, reading the lines on the strangers face. His wife had swooned when Harry scratched the new, leather setteean indulgent piece worth several hundred pounds. She pronounced a verdict, and the husband? The husband simply nodded, ever the acquiescent one.

Clutching a oneyearold kitten under his arm, the man trudged to the neighbours tip. Harry didnt chase after him; he stood still, seeing the sentence in the mans eyes, feeling the futility of it all. A proper goodbyehandshake, a pat, an apologynever came. Instead, the scene dissolved like a bucket of rubbish emptied in a dream.

Harry sighed, rummaged through the rubbish for something edible, and nibbled on a few stale chicken bits. He rose, settled beside a gigantic green tank, and stared at the sun.

He squinted, yet did not look away. From that bright, circular disc warmth streamed, and it felt comforting, a pleasure he clung to.

These were the last sunrayssummers glow, autumns gold, winters pale light. A thin sheet of ice melted, while a chill settled in Harrys heart.

Evening and night fell cold after the sun slipped away. Wind and frost took hold. The ginger kitten shivered, unsure where to hide. He discovered a mound of damp, russet leaves, burrowed into them, and curled into a ball. At first he trembled, teeth chattering, but then

When the wind, slick with icy spray, stiffened his orange coat, an odd warmth seeped in. A faint voice whispered from the depths, humming soothing words that coaxed him to close his eyes and abandon all of his woes.

Curl up tighter, and sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep. The voice promised heat.

Warmth spread through his stiffened back. It was simple: surrender, and everything would pass; peace and eternity would follow, and grievances would fade.

Harry exhaled one final time and acquiesced. Why fight? For what? Tomorrow the same cold and hunger awaited, the same longing to shut his eyes forever, never to open them again.

Streetlights flickered in the distance, then closer still. Harry glanced at them one last time. He had often watched their glow from his window. The ginger kitten, for the final moment, drank in that light, his eyes flashing in the dimming darkness.

That last spark caught the attention of a small, redhaired girl. She trudged home with her father, tugged his sleeve, and whispered:

There she said, pointing at a heap of leaves, theres someone.

Theres noone there, the father shivered, his breath visible in the cold. Lets get home faster. Im freezing.

He tried to steer her away from the towering pile of dark foliage. The redhaired girl pulled his shoulder.

I saw it. I saw the light.

The light in a pile of old leaves? the father asked, bewildered. That cant be.

She pushed aside the top layer and uncovered a trembling orange bodyHarry.

Dad! she cried.

I saw it. Its him.

Who? the father asked, stepping closer.

Here he is, she said, trying to lift the frozen torso.

Leave it, the father muttered. Hes already dead. We wont carry a dead cat home.

He isnt dead, the girl insisted. I know. I saw the light in his eyes.

The light in a cats eyes? he shrugged.

He drew nearer, cradling the bundle, listening for a heartbeat, pressing his palm to its chest.

Harry longed for sleep. The dream pressed his lids together, warmth flooding his little body. Inside, a voice murmured:

Sleep, sleep, sleep keep your eyes closed.

A thin, childlike voice repeated, insistent, The light in his eyes.

What do they want from me? Why the torment again? Why wont they let me rest?

He barely opened his eyes, trying to see who was still intruding.

Here! the childs voice shouted. Here! I told you. Did you see? Light again!

What light? he asked, bewildered, shedding his coat and wrapping the orange bundle in it, then trudging toward the house.

The little girl ran alongside him, urging, Father, hurry. Hes cold.

They vanished into the stairwell, and the fifthfloor windows flared to life. Harry was bathed in warm water, given a bowl of warmed milk. The girl pleaded:

Dont die. Please, dont die.

The ice on his fur melted, and the chill in his soul thawed.

From the doorway, a tall mansometimes a guardian in strangers dreamswatched as the father and daughter tended to him. He had awoken, feeling genuine heat radiating from the scene, not from radiators but from a childs tender heart.

Outside, he stood, the figure who occasionally appears to help, gazing at the illuminated fifthfloor windows, speaking softly to himself:

All I can do, all I can give.

He paused, then added, Light isnt seen by everyone. Even those who see it may not be able to keep it.

Harry, looking at the redhaired girl, thought not of human grandeurthose thoughts belong to people. He thought only of his own light, the glimmer hed seen in her eyes.