Buster didn’t look like a tough cat that day.
He looked like a tired, lonely sweet soul sitting in Ray’s Ohio junkyard, like he had nowhere else to go.
His little tuxedo body was still, but his eyes were heavy.
The kind of eyes that feel heartbreaking, like they’ve been waiting too long for kindness and safe arms.
Ray opened the back door and there Buster was, not running, not begging, just hoping.
Like he was asking in silence, “Can I stay… just this once?”
And in that cold, rough place full of broken cars, one small cat chose love.
Because even the strongest cats can have a shattered heart.
