I’ll admit it—I used to think Siamese cats were strange-looking, far from the cute, fluffy cats I preferred. That all changed with a foster cat named Jingxi (Surprise), a Siamese who turned my perceptions upside down. But what followed was a rollercoaster of heartache and unexpected responsibility, proving that sometimes, fate sends us cats who need us most, even when they don’t fit our ideals.
The Foster Who Changed Everything
Jingxi arrived at my boarding facility with a sleek coat and striking blue eyes. At first, I couldn’t understand her appeal—my own cats agreed, hissing and leaping away whenever she approached, a reaction I’d never seen with other fosters. But Jingxi was impossible to ignore. She followed me everywhere, pressing her face against mine, purring loudly, and demanding affection. Her clingy, dog-like loyalty slowly won me over. “Maybe Siamese aren’t so bad,” I thought.
The Abandoned Kitten: A Horrifying Discovery
Shortly after, a woman dropped off another Siamese, handing me 300 yuan and a vaccine certificate. “I’ll pick her up in a week,” she said, rushing off. The kitten, named Da Fu (Great Wealth), huddled in her cage, refusing to move. The next day, I forced her out—and gasped. Her mouth was bleeding, her nose raw and oozing. When I tried to contact the owner, she blocked me.
At the vet, the diagnosis was horrific: her teeth had been smashed out, and someone had poured sulfuric acid into her nose. “Why would anyone do this?” I seethed. The vet assured me she’d survive but would struggle with hard food and have lifelong scars. I renamed her Mei Qiu (Coal Ball) and braced for the costs. To my relief, treatment cost less than 1,000 yuan—mostly for stopping the bleeding and clearing her nasal passages.
Mei Qiu: Flawed but Fearless
Mei Qiu was nothing like the “perfect” Siamese I’d seen online. Her eyes were a dull blue, her mouth permanently sunken, and she flinched at loud noises. But her spirit amazed me. During daily wound care, she struggled violently, twisting to escape—but never once scratched or bit me. “You’re too gentle for this world,” I’d murmur, wiping blood from her nose.
As a cat business owner reliant on healthy, adoptable cats, I couldn’t afford to keep a “broken” cat. But Mei Qiu refused to be ignored. She’d limp after me, purring weakly, and curl up on my shoes while I worked. Slowly, she wormed her way into my heart.
Unexpected Additions and a Harsh Reality
Just as I adjusted to Mei Qiu, another crisis hit: a pregnant cat named Huali and her owner showed up. The owner, herself pregnant, dumped both the mother and her kittens on me, leaving me fuming. “Thanks for nothing,” I grumbled, but took them in anyway.
To offset costs, I made the controversial decision to breed Mei Qiu. “It’s just business,” I told myself, but guilt nagged at me. Mei Qiu, now round with kittens, still followed me loyally, unaware of the harsh world she’d endured.
The Unending Lesson: Beauty in Resilience
My cats still eye Mei Qiu warily, their stares a reminder of her “imperfect” looks. But to me, she’s a symbol of resilience. Her scars tell a story of pain, but her purrs speak of forgiveness. She’s taught me that worth isn’t measured in blue eyes or a flawless coat—it’s in the courage to love despite suffering.
As I write this, Mei Qiu sleeps beside me, her breath raspy from her damaged nose. I sigh, stroking her fur. “You’re supposed to be my profit,” I joke, but we both know the truth. She’s not a business asset. She’s a survivor, a teacher, and somehow, against all odds, family.
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