Coming home did not mean that all our fear disappeared at once.

My babies and I were afraid that we might be given away again. We had already been taken from the only home they knew and left in a strange place. We did not understand why we had been sent away or whether it might happen again.

We hid beneath cupboards and shelves, making ourselves as small and unobtrusive as possible. We tried not to be too loud or too obvious. We did not want to upset anyone or give them a reason to send us away again.

For a while, we watched and waited.

Each time food was placed before us, each time we woke and found ourselves still at home, and each time another day passed without the carriers appearing, we became a little less afraid.

Slowly, we came out from our hiding places.

We began moving through the rooms again. We returned to our familiar sleeping places and rediscovered the routines we had known before. Gradually, we understood that this time, no one was going to take us away.

What happened did not take away my happiness, but it took time for me to feel safe enough to show it again.

Today, I am still the positive, perky cat I have always been. I am funny, affectionate and full of personality. I enjoy comfort, security and the freedom to relax without wondering where my next meal will come from—or whether I will still be here tomorrow.

I am also a very big girl. When I curl up inside a shopping trolley bag, I fill its entire width and length.

I am no longer the thin, hungry cat who once searched for food beside a drain.

I am a cat who has been fed, protected and given the time to feel safe again.

I do not need to roam to be free.

I need food when I am hungry, shelter when it rains, medical care when I am sick and people who notice when something is wrong. I need secure windows and doors, clean water, comfortable places to sleep and the company of the family I know.

Most of all, I need the promise that I will never be abandoned again.