04/21/2025
Little Cat of San Juan
By Alanna Arabian
It was her last night at the resort on the coast of San Juan. She was walking around the pool, repeatedly attempting to exude the rest of the day’s energy before drifting off to sleep in the queen-sized bed she was sharing with her sister. On one of her loops around the pool, she spotted a cat with fur the colors of a yellow and orange sunset. The cat, not too big, although not too small—probably around six months old—was crouched over a pool drain cover.
She crouched down, balancing her weight on bended knees to examine the cat licking up small droplets of chlorine water that bounced up with every ripple and current made by a child jumping in the pool.
“Poor thing,” she thought. Do these cats even get fed? She also wondered if she even needed to feel bad. It was an animal, after all, and it having been born there meant it didn’t know any different. Besides, animals are very adaptable.
She got up and continued walking, but a desire was weighing on her heart. She couldn’t stop thinking about the little cat at the pool drain. Her eyes darted around for any sight of water, but the bartender had put the water dispenser at the pool bar away for the night. She considered running inside the hotel to find some, but she worried the cat would be gone by the time she got back.
Feeling defeated, that’s when she remembered the water at the fitness center. She scanned her room key to enter the freestanding building adjacent to the pool. She filled a paper cup to the brim with water, so high that one small tilt and it would all spill out. Mentally crossing her fingers, she made her way back to the pool drain to find the little cat sitting on a lounge chair nearby, licking its paws.
She made a kiss kiss sound to capture its attention and placed the cup on the edge of the table next to the chair. Curious, the little cat kept its back legs on the chair and placed its front paws on the table. It stretched out its neck to get a closer look, and with every stretch, its rib cage became more visible. Once it realized it was water, it drank.
Alexandra sat on the chair on the other side of the table, doting on the cat. Sitting in the quiet stillness of the night, she pondered deeply on the value of that moment in time. She wondered what the cat was thinking. Was the cat thinking anything at all, besides about the immediate moment as it slurped up the water with its tongue? It would be impossible to know if the cat was feeling grateful toward her.
In a way, she was grateful for the cat. It didn’t have to beg for the water. It drank because she was there and she cared. It didn’t have to do anything special to be treated well. The little cat of San Juan was simply around the right person. Through the power of love and connection, God provided it with everything it needed in that moment.
And if a stray cat is that worthy of love and abundance, then why wouldn’t she, as a human, be just as worthy—if not more—of that same love?
