A stray cat, taken in by a kind soul, found itself back on the streets after just a month. People online commented: It’s better off wandering.

I’ve always wanted a cat, a black one to be precise – mysterious and cool. Unfortunately, my family’s not on board with the idea, so I had to let that dream go.

One day, coming home from work, I spotted a little black cat. It was skinny and seemed on high alert, almost scared of me. I had some bread and laid it out for it.

The cat looked hungry yet hesitant. When I realized it was scared of me, I backed away. Then, I watched as it cautiously moved towards the bread and began to eat.

It must have sensed I meant no harm, as it seemed to relax around me. After eating, it gazed at me with a look that said, “Got any more? I’m still hungry.” I had nothing left, but couldn’t resist those yearning eyes, so I decided to bring it home.

My family wasn’t thrilled about the dirty little black cat I brought home, but since it was already there, they begrudgingly agreed. Given its appearance, I named it Mr Black.

After a meal and some rest, I figured it was bath time. Cats aren’t fans of water, and Mr Black was no exception. It put up a fight, but it was too dirty to skip a bath.

The water turned pitch black – you’d think it was a cat dyed black!

Mr Black was pretty skittish, mostly hiding away and only coming out to eat. Its nighttime meowing also kept everyone up. I reassured my family that it would adjust with time and that we should give it a chance. So, we continued to keep it, and things were smooth for a while.

However, when I had to go on a business trip for a couple of days, I asked my mom to feed Mr Black. That’s when things went south.

Mr Black, still not comfortable with others, scratched my mom when she approached with food. My family concluded that Mr Black was too wild and dangerous, advocating for its removal.

I couldn’t stand the thought of abandoning it again, perhaps its distrust stemmed from past hurts or food being stolen while on the streets. Ultimately, we compromised and decided to confine it. It wasn’t ideal, but better than being a stray.

In confinement, Mr Black seemed even more down, just lying there all day. Every little sound, like moving a chair, scared it. We had no choice but to keep it confined, hoping to spend more time with it and win its trust.

Just when I thought we were making progress, my dad accidentally moved its cage while cleaning. Mr Black lashed out, scratching him deeply. It even snarled and tried to bite him.

Following this, my dad needed medical attention, and the doctor recommended a rabies shot due to Mr Black’s stray past.

After these incidents and constant nighttime meowing, my family was adamant: Mr Black couldn’t stay. With a heavy heart, I left it where I first found it, with food and water. I planned to check on it, bring food, but that was all I could offer.