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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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 Married a Widower with a Young Son – One Day, the Boy Told Me His Real Mom Still Lives in Our House
“My real mom still lives here,” my stepson whispered one night. I laughed it off, until I started noticing strange things around our home.
When I married Ben, I thought I understood what it meant to step into the life of a widower. He had been so devoted to his late wife, Irene, and he was raising their seven-year-old son, Lucas, all on his own.
A happy father-son duo | Source: Midjourney
I respected the deep love he still held for her, knowing it was tied to the memory of his first love and Lucas’ mother. I wasn’t here to replace her, just to create a new chapter for all of us.
The first few months as a family were everything I had hoped for. Lucas welcomed me warmly, with none of the hesitation I had feared. I spent hours playing games with him, reading his favorite bedtime stories, and helping him with schoolwork.
A woman helping a young boy with homework | Source: Midjourney
I even learned to make his favorite mac and cheese exactly how he liked it — extra cheesy with breadcrumbs on top.
One day, out of nowhere, Lucas started calling me “Mom,” and every time, Ben and I would catch each other’s eye with proud smiles. It felt like things were falling perfectly into place.
One night, after a cozy evening, I was tucking Lucas into bed. Suddenly, he looked up at me, his eyes wide and serious. “You know, my real mom still lives here,” he whispered.
A young boy lying in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
I chuckled softly, running my fingers through his hair. “Oh, sweetheart, your mom will always be with you, in your heart.”
But Lucas shook his head, clutching my hand with an intensity that made my heart skip. “No, she’s here. In the house. I see her sometimes.”
A chill prickled at the back of my neck. I forced a smile, brushing it off as a child’s imagination running wild. “It’s just a dream, honey. Go to sleep.”
A woman forces a smile while sitting in her bed at night | Source: Midjourney
Lucas settled down, but I felt uneasy. I pushed the thought aside, telling myself he was just adjusting to a new family, a new normal. But as the days passed, small things around the house began to unsettle me.
For starters, I’d clean up Lucas’ toys, only to find them later exactly where I’d picked them up. Not just once or twice, but again and again.
A closeup of toy blocks scattered on the floor | Source: Pexels
And the kitchen cabinets — I’d rearrange them the way I liked, but the next morning, things were back in their old places, like someone was trying to undo my touch on the home. It was unnerving, but I kept telling myself it was just my mind playing tricks.
Then, one evening, I noticed something I couldn’t explain. I had moved Irene’s photograph from the living room to a more discreet shelf in the hallway. But when I came downstairs the next day, there it was, back in its original spot, perfectly dusted as though someone had just cleaned it.
A photo frame containing a woman’s picture | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and decided to discuss it with Ben. “Are you moving things around the house?” I asked one evening, trying to sound casual as we were finishing dinner.
Ben looked up, grinning as though I’d told a silly joke. “No, Brenda, why would I? I think you’re just imagining things.”
He laughed, but there was something in his eyes — a hint of discomfort or maybe reluctance. I couldn’t place it, but I felt an invisible wall between us.
A man laughs to hide his discomfort | Source: Midjourney
A few nights later, Lucas and I were working on a puzzle on the living room floor. He was focused, placing the pieces with his little tongue poking out in concentration, when he suddenly looked up at me, eyes wide and sincere.
“Mom says you shouldn’t touch her things.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean, sweetie?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced toward the hallway.
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
Lucas leaned in, lowering his voice. “Real Mom. She doesn’t like it when you move her things,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder like he expected someone to be watching us.
I sat frozen, trying to process what he was saying.
The way he looked at me was so serious, like he was sharing a secret he wasn’t supposed to. I forced a smile, nodded, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Lucas. You don’t have to worry. Let’s finish up our puzzle, alright?”
A closeup shot of a child making a puzzle | Source: Pexels
But that night, as Ben and I lay in bed, my mind raced. I tried to tell myself it was just a kid’s overactive imagination. But each time I closed my eyes, I’d hear Lucas’ words, see the way he’d glanced nervously toward the hallway.
When Ben was finally asleep, I got up quietly, heading to the attic. I knew Ben kept some of Irene’s old things in a box up there. Maybe if I could see them and find out more about her, it would help me understand why Lucas was acting this way.
A closeup shot of a metal box | Source: Pexels
I climbed the creaky stairs, my flashlight slicing through the dark, until I found the box tucked in a corner, dusty but well-kept.
The lid was heavier than I expected, as though it had absorbed years of memories. I pulled it off and found old photos, letters she’d written to Ben, and her wedding ring wrapped carefully in tissue. It was all so personal, and I felt a strange pang of guilt going through it.
A wedding ring wrapped in a tissue lying on an old wooden table | Source: Midjourney
But there was something else. A few items looked freshly moved, almost as if they’d been handled recently. And that’s when I noticed it: a small door in the corner, half hidden behind a stack of boxes.
I froze, squinting at the door. I’d been in the attic a few times but had never noticed it. Slowly, I pushed the boxes aside and twisted the old, tarnished knob. It clicked, opening into a narrow room dimly lit by a small window.
A narrow room dimly lit by a small window in an attic | Source: Midjourney
And there, sitting on a twin bed covered in blankets, was a woman I recognized immediately from the photos. She looked up, her eyes wide.
I stepped back, startled, and stammered, “You… you’re Emily, Ben’s sister, aren’t you?”
Emily’s expression shifted from surprise to something else — a quiet, eerie calm. “I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Why didn’t Ben tell me? Why are you up here?”
A woman is dumbfounded while standing in an attic | Source: Midjourney
She looked down, smoothing the edge of her blanket. “Ben didn’t want you to know. He thought you’d leave if you found out… if you saw me like this. I’ve… I’ve been here for three years now.”
“Three years?” I could barely process it. “You’ve been hiding up here all this time?”
Emily nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “I don’t… go outside much. I prefer it up here. But sometimes, I get restless. And Lucas… I talk to him sometimes. He’s such a sweet boy.”
A woman sitting in an attic and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
A chill ran through me. “Emily, what are you telling him? He thinks his mother’s still here. He told me that she doesn’t like it when I move things.”
Emily’s face softened, but there was a trace of something unsettling in her eyes. “I tell him stories sometimes. About his mother. He misses her. I think it comforts him to know she’s still… present.”
“But he thinks you’re her. Lucas thinks you’re his real mom,” I said, my voice breaking.
A shocked woman in an attic | Source: Midjourney
She looked away. “Maybe it’s better that way. Maybe it helps him to feel she’s still here.”
I felt my head spinning as I backed out of the room, closing the door behind me. This was beyond anything I could have imagined. I went straight downstairs, finding Ben in the living room, his face immediately full of concern when he saw me.
“Ben,” I whispered, barely holding it together. “Why didn’t you tell me about Emily?”
He went pale, his eyes darting away. “Brenda, I—”
A surprised man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Do you realize what she’s been doing? Lucas thinks… he thinks she’s his real mom!”
Ben’s face fell, and he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands. “I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. I thought… I thought keeping her here, out of sight, would be best. I couldn’t leave her alone. She’s my sister. And after Irene passed, Emily wasn’t the same. She refused to get any help.”
I sat beside him, gripping his hand. “But she’s confusing Lucas, Ben. He’s just a child. He doesn’t understand.”
A woman looking kind and concerned | Source: Midjourney
Ben sighed, nodding slowly. “You’re right. This isn’t fair to Lucas—or to you. We can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine.”
After a few moments, I whispered, “I think we should set up a camera, just to see if she’s really been leaving her room. To know for sure.”
Ben hesitated, but eventually, he agreed. We set up a small, hidden camera outside Emily’s door that night.
The next evening, after Lucas had gone to bed, we sat in our room, watching the footage. For hours, nothing happened. Then, just past midnight, we saw her door creak open.
A grayscale shot of an open attic door | Source: Midjourney
Emily stepped into the hallway, her hair loose around her face, and stood there, looking at Lucas’ bedroom door.
Then Lucas appeared, rubbing his eyes, and walked toward her. Even on the grainy screen, I could see his little hand reaching for her. She knelt down, whispering something to him, her hand on his shoulder. I couldn’t hear the words, but I saw Lucas nod and say something back, looking up at her with that same, earnest expression.
A young boy standing in his room | Source: Midjourney
I felt a wave of anger and sadness I couldn’t quite control. “She’s been… she’s been feeding his imagination, Ben. This isn’t healthy.”
Ben watched the screen, his face drawn and tired. “I know. This has gone too far. We can’t let her do this to him anymore.”
The next morning, Ben sat down with Lucas, explaining everything in simple terms. He told him that his Aunt Emily was sick, that sometimes her illness made her act in ways that confused people, and that his real mom wasn’t coming back.
A father talking to his young son | Source: Midjourney
Lucas was quiet, looking down at his little hands, and I could tell he was struggling to understand. “But she told me she’s my mom. You can’t send her away, Dad,” he murmured, his eyes filling with tears.
Ben hugged him tightly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know, buddy. But that was her way of trying to help you feel close to your mom. She loves you, just like we do. And we’re going to help her get better.”
A woman standing in an attic | Source: Midjourney
Later that day, Ben arranged for Emily to see a doctor. The process was painful; she protested, even cried, but Ben stayed firm, explaining that she needed help. Once she was admitted to the hospital, the house felt quieter, almost lighter.
Lucas struggled at first. He’d ask about Emily, sometimes wondering if she was coming back. But gradually, he began to understand that what he’d believed wasn’t real, and he started to make peace with the truth.
Through it all, Ben and I grew closer, supporting each other as we helped Lucas cope.
A happy couple | Source: Midjourney
It wasn’t the journey I expected when I married him, but somehow, we’d come out stronger on the other side, bound together not just by love, but by everything we’d faced as a family.
If you loved this story, here’s another one for you: When Ruth entered her in-laws’ house, she sensed something was wrong. The unsettling silence and her father-in-law’s strange text were just the beginning. But when she followed a mysterious noise to the attic and unlocked the door, nothing could have prepared her for what she found.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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