Kitty :Story of a chubby white cat

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A touching story about a white chubby cat and her owner—an emotional tale of friendship, love, and a heartbreaking goodbye.

white chubby cat

 Story of a White Cat – A Heart-Touching Emotional Story of Friendship and Loss

“Meow… meow!”

The sound woke me from my sleep. Annoyed, I shouted, “Mom, why did you bring a cat here?”

From the kitchen came her voice, “Monkey! I didn’t bring any cats. It must have come from outside.”

My dream was broken, and that continuous meowing started to irritate me. Determined to find the source, I searched every corner of the house. But there was no cat anywhere.

Just when I was about to give up, I noticed a faint glow under the bed. “Finally, I found you,” I muttered. As I crawled under to catch it, I banged my head hard on the edge of the couch. The white cat hissed and moved quickly to the corner, curling up like a cotton ball.

When I reached out my hand, she scratched me and ran away. After several failed attempts, I softened my voice, saying gently,

“Come here, little one. I won’t hurt you.”

She slowly came closer. I lifted her in my arms—her fur was snow-white, soft, and warm. She was adorable, round, and chubby like a fluffy cloud. From that moment, we became friends.

Months passed, and the white chubby cat became my closest companion. She wasn’t just a pet; she was my shadow. We visited the market together, watched movies, and she even followed me to school sometimes! Every evening, she waited near the door for me to return. As soon as I entered, she would jump into my arms and lick my face with affection.

At night, I couldn’t fall asleep without wrapping my arm around her—just like a child cuddles a soft toy.

***

One rainy afternoon, I returned from school expecting to see her waiting. But my “Kitty” wasn’t there.

I searched every room, calling her name again and again, but there was no response. Worried, I ran barefoot into the streets, shouting her name. I even went to the fish market, holding my nose, searching every corner—but my white cat was gone.

As the sun began to set behind the Western Ghats, I sat on a bench, exhausted and heartbroken. Darkness crept in, but I refused to give up. I decided to look one last time.

At the Sixth Crossing of Main Street, I heard barking dogs and a faint cry—a cat’s cry. The sound pierced my heart. I ran as fast as I could, stepping on broken glass, bleeding, not caring.

There she was—my cat—surrounded by five or six stray dogs. The cruel animals had attacked her. Without thinking, I threw stones at them until they scattered. Then, I rushed to my injured white cat and lifted her fragile body.

Her fur, once pure white, was soaked in blood. Her ear was torn, her breathing shallow. I tried everything—rubbing her paws, chest, and head, and breathing into her tiny mouth. My palms were red with her blood, but I didn’t stop.

As I cried, she licked my cheeks gently—two, three times—as if saying, “Don’t cry, I’m okay.” Then, she stopped moving.

I hugged her tightly, crying like a child who had lost his favourite toy. I could almost see her—my white, chubby cat—wearing angel wings, flying peacefully toward the sky, her tiny harp in hand.

That night, I lost my best friend. But her love still lives in my heart.

Moral of the Story:

Love has no boundaries—not even between humans and animals.

A pet’s love is pure, unconditional, and eternal. Cherish every moment with them because one day, they may become your most beautiful memory.