Lizzie and the Mysterious Open Door

Liza and the Open Door

The night was dark and frightful… A deep ache weighed upon her heart. Why had this happened to her? Liza sat quietly in the shadow of the old oak tree in the yard. The biting wind cut through her fur, turning her tears to ice in the autumn chill. She pressed her frozen paws to her belly and remembered…

How lovely it had been beside her mothers warm side, curled in a soft heap with her brothers and sisters. Her mother would wash them one by one, purring a gentle lullaby. Safe, content, loved… Then her paws grew strong, and she began to wriggle free from that warm cocoon, eager to explore the bright flat.

One by one, her siblings were taken away, until at last it was Lizas turn. A man and woman spoke kindly to her, cuddled her, even kissed her. But Liza only wanted to run! They brought her to a new home, and she did runthrough every room, every hidden corner.

At first, everyone adored the little kitten. So many toys! Mice, balls, feather wands. The most thrilling game was chasing the red dot from the laser pointer, though it always slipped just beyond her grasp.

But Liza grew into a dignified lady, and games lost their charm. Only the jingle of the laser pointers chain could still rouse her to chase that elusive dot. In the evenings, she sat in the kitchen, “helping” her mistress cook. In the mornings, she saw her master off to work. Liza was happy.

Then it all ended… Her owners packed suitcases and bags. Liza leaped over them, delighted by the new game. But they avoided her gaze, their faces grim. A sour-faced woman with pinched lips arriveda relative who would mind the flat while they were away.

Liza lingered by the door, listening for familiar footsteps. They never came.

The flat grew cold and unwelcoming. The woman often forgot to feed her, and Liza was too timid to beg. Shed sit by her empty bowl, waiting until the woman nearly tripped over her before grudgingly filling the dirty dish.

Now she was forbidden from the sofa (“too much fur”) and the windowsill (“the flowers!”). Liza spent her days on the sandy doormat in the hall. The woman recoiled from her touch, though Liza groomed herself diligently, keeping her coat sleek and perfect.

It was all for nothing. One day, the woman shrieked at finding fur on her suede boots, brandishing a dishcloth. Liza flattened herself against the wall, terrifiedno one had ever raised a voice at her before. Still, her owners did not return…

Then she saw the doorjust ajar. Without a second thought, Liza slipped out. She glanced back once before darting down the stairs, fleeing as far as she could.

Now she was alone in the cold, exposed and vulnerable. No shelter, and somewhere nearby, a pack of dogs roamed. For a moment, she regretted leaving… but she couldnt bear that flat, that pinched-lipped woman. Had she left the door open on purpose?

Inside, the woman stuffed Lizas toys into a bin bag, then tossed in the leftover food and bowls.

Hearing barks, Liza hunched low and crept onward. She didnt know where she was going, only that shed never be happy again…

Days passed. She wandered the streets, freezing at drunken footsteps or a dogs growl. By chance, she found refuge near a bakery gate where the night guards didnt shoo her away. They noticed the shy, tidy cat, but she kept her distance.

Though they left out the finest scraps, Liza refused to eat. If shed wanted to live, shed have stayed where there was foodhowever meagre. But thirst forced her to drink from filthy puddles, leaving her belly aching. Her once-plump frame grew gaunt; only her glossy coat and wide, sorrowful eyes still drew sympathy.

The bakers resolved to catch her, but she dodged their nets. Startled, she fled, resuming her aimless wanderinguntil her paws led her home.

The building door stood open.

She stared into the dark stairwell, then crept inside. The climb to the second floor took an age. At last, her flats door loomed before hershut tight. Why had she returned? Perhaps just to see it one last time…

Inside, voices clashed. Her owners had come back to find her gone. The mistress raged at her sister-in-law, who shrugged. “She ran off! Was I to chain her?”

“Ran off?” The mistresss voice shook. “Then why are her things missing?”

“You should thank me for minding your flat and that flea-bitten cat!”

From the opposite flat, a neighbour peered out. “Liza, love! Oh, youre skin and bones!” She rang the bell.

The door flew open. The pinched-lipped woman stormed out. “Ill never set foot here again!”

Thenthe mistress appeared.

Liza let out a strangled cry and flung herself at her, claws catching in thin trousers as she scrambled up.

“You came back…” The mistress whispered, tears brimming.

Liza rubbed against her so fiercely that fur dusted her clean clothes. For the first time in six days, hunger stirred in her belly.

That night, curled between her beloved owners, Liza knew shed been wrong… She was happy again.

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Lizzie and the Mysterious Open Door
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