When a homeless man discovered an odd box in the river, he initially believed it to be garbage, but he was so shocked that he nearly dropped it.
In a battered but solid rucksack, a homeless guy who appeared to be around sixty years old meticulously packed his fishing gear. The bag has endured heat, snow, and rain. An old matchbox contained jars of bait, hooks, floats, and maggots. For him, fishing was a means of subsistence rather than a pastime.
He was dressed in a shabby coat and rubber boots that he had discovered at a landfill a few years prior; one of the boots was a little smaller than the other, but he was accustomed to it. As he did every day, the man straightened himself and made his way to the river, even though the weight of the backpack had bent his back. He had no family, no employment, and no house. He mostly depended on the river, though occasionally someone would offer him a slice of bread or a hot cup of tea.
When he drew the line in after an hour of fishing, he saw a cardboard box instead of a fish.
“Trash again,” he whispered to himself.
It was a heavy box. Something was obviously inside, and the man was going to toss it back when it made an odd noise.
He stiffened. His heart paused for a second as he carefully tore apart the damp cardboard. There was
A little ginger cat crouched within, frightened and squeezing its ears shut. Wet and thin, with terrified eyes. It meowed and gave him a worried expression.
The man remained silent. After removing his jacket, he crouched down directly by the water and wrapped it around the quivering cat. Despite his lack of sentimentality, something about this small life opened a rusty, ancient door in his psyche.
He gave her the name Spark.
Everything has changed since then. He started giving her his fish and kept her safe in his jacket at night. Despite living on the streets, the cat bounced back fast and followed him everywhere, like a tail-bearing shadow. She actually saved him one day.
On a park seat, the man passed out during a particularly cold spell that winter. He was hungry, cold, and feeble. Spark stayed with him. Jumping onto her owner’s chest, she rubbed herself against him, meowed, and remained near him.
A woman who was walking by saw the odd scenario and came over. She made an ambulance call. They brought the man back to life. He then proceeded to a shelter where he was provided with a clean bed and hot food. He was permitted to keep the feline.
On the recommendation of a volunteer, he was hired as a janitor a few weeks later. It was a modest but sufficient pay. Spark shared a little room close to the housing office with him. His own life had changed so drastically that he was taken aback.
He stopped fishing. He now had a job, a place to live, and—above all—a person to look after.
