A kitten was brought back to life, and now she can see. Her once-clouded world is filled with light. MoiraAlleyCatRescueUpon learning about a kitten in critical condition, volunteers at Alley Cat Rescue sprang into action to save her. "At just 3-4 weeks old, she was a tiny bag of bones with her eyes sealed shut and barely holding her temperature," the rescue shared.Moira, the kitten, was only half her expected size, with an upper respiratory infection and severe anemia due to fleas. "She was in bad shape, but we could see her fighting spirit. We rushed her in for urgent care. After her treatments, she was ravenous and tried to chew on a bottle of formula."As they gently cleaned her face, they discovered her little eyes hidden underneath all the goop. AlleyCatRescueWith dedicated care from the veterinary team and her foster family, she began to improve and found her purr again.Initially, they worried she might be permanently blind due to the damage in her eyes, but they never stopped trying to restore her sight. AlleyCatRescueWith treatments, nourishing food, and plenty of TLC, Moira continued to make progress. She ate heartily, working hard to gain weight and build strength."Her eyes look brighter, and she's more alert than ever, even responding with sweet little squeaks when she hears our voices. We're dedicated to helping her grow stronger each day." AlleyCatRescueMoira didn't mind having her eyes cleaned and treated daily, as if she understood they were helping her. "She's showing more energy and even a little feistiness. She has doubled her weight in just over a week.""She purrs the moment you touch her, and her adorable personality shines through." AlleyCatRescueWith a spring in her step, she embraced her kitten spirit, exploring every corner of her playpen and lighting up each time her canine friend, Snoopy, came to visit."Moira was totally fascinated as she sniffed the puppy, and Snoopy gently licked her face. Watching them explore each other's worlds—Moira's curiosity and Snoopy's playful spirit—reminded us of the simple joys in life." Moira and SnoopyAlleyCatRescueThe cloudiness in her eyes began to clear up after they treated her ulcer. She could make out shadows and navigate her surroundings with growing confidence."Despite her challenges, her spirit remains strong, and she remains undeterred. She has taken a liking to crinkly toys and anything that makes noise." She was excited about her new room and friendsAlleyCatRescueWith more room to romp around, she was introduced to other kittens. She quickly claimed the cozy strawberry house, often curling up inside with her friends."It's heartwarming to see her so happy and engaged. She follows your feet everywhere and is full of energy, always bouncing around. She's friendly with other cats, happily greeting everyone she meets." The cloudiness in her eyes started to clear upAlleyCatRescue"She's now spending her days with the big cats and has truly found her place among them. Watching her wrestle with the older cats is a joy—she holds her own and has quickly become a favorite playmate."As Moira's eyes cleared, she gradually regained her vision, revealing their beautiful amber color. AlleyCatRescue"Slowly, our efforts began to pay off. Now, Moira can see. She confidently climbs up and down cat trees as a clear sign that her vision has improved, and she's reclaiming her independence."Moira is having the time of her life with her feline friends, spending her days playing and snuggling with them. She can now see. She loves spending time with her feline friendsAlleyCatRescueGiven a second chance, not only was her life saved, but her vision was restored. The once-clouded world she knew is now filled with light. AlleyCatRescueShare this story with your friends. More on Moira and Alley Cat Rescue on Instagram and Facebook.Related story: Feral Kitten Pushes Everyone Away but Decided to Trust for the First Time After 2 Weeks Being Indoors

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I write in a journal every night. Well, I try to write in a journal every night. “Try” being the key word. Saying that I write in a journal every night is somewhat of an aspirational statement. I hope that by saying it, I will end up actually doing it. Kids say the funniest things. Sometimes, that’s all I write down. These years are only so long, and I don’t want to forget.But I don’t. I never fulfill the promise. I always screw up. I miss days all over. I work too much. I don’t get done until right before dinner. Then, we eat and put the kids to bed. At that point, I’m beat so I pour another cup of coffee and get back to work. Then, of course, I forget to write until I am lying in bed, and by that point, it’s too late.My life is too busy to write every night. And tragically enough, that’s why I should write every night. To the lighthouseWe all keep a journal for different reasons. I keep one to remember things I don’t want to forget. For some reason, writing down what happened helps me remember. And even if I can’t recall it right away, after rereading what I wrote down all those years ago, a switch is triggered in my mind, and all of a sudden, the memories come rushing back. All I needed was a little lighthouse to get me to the shore. That’s what my journal is. I’m building little lighthouses on the pages so one day I can find my way back.Sometimes, I sit at my desk and flip through the pages. I read an entry from years ago. March 20, 2019. That little lighthouse leads me back to that memory hidden in the dark corner of my mind. I’m there again. Take 10The next entry on the following page is five months later. My God. Why didn’t I write? What happened? I don’t remember anymore. There are fleeting images and events, but I can’t put a date to them. Was that 2019 or 2018? Or 2020? Where did my memories go? They are there, I know they are. But I can’t find my way back. I’m lost. Why didn’t I write? Just 10 minutes here and there. That’s all I needed to do. I was too busy.Kids say the funniest things. I write down a lot of those. Mispronounced words. Hilarious questions. Disturbingly insightful comments that only kids seem to make because they have no filter and their minds are free to wonder about anything they choose. Sometimes, that’s all I write down. These years are only so long, and I don’t want to forget. Built to spillA journal isn’t only about documentation of memories for future reference. There’s something therapeutic about writing it down. Take a pen and paper out of the top drawer. Sit there, and write. Spill it all out. Don’t hold back. There’s no one watching. No one listening. You can be who you are. Don’t be afraid. Sometimes, we need to get something out. Some people like to talk things out. But no one ever tells everything. We all keep the most tender parts hidden. But writing in that paper journal is our chance to bleed it out of us. And after we do it, we feel better in some way. It’s therapeutic. We take part of our heart, put it onto paper, then close the cover, and slide it back in the bottom drawer. There we go. Take a deep breath, exhale. The pen is mightierWriting it all down isn’t like typing in some word processing program, either. It’s different. Yes, it takes longer, but that’s not really it. It’s that it’s personal. Truly personal. You hold the pen against the paper. These things are real physical things you are grabbing with your hand. You write the words in the handwriting that is only yours. You yourself are spilled all over the open journal. One day when you die and someone finds what you wrote, they will know it is yours by the handwriting that died with you. Those pages remain. They linger. Those pages of confession hang around after we are gone. Unless we burn them, of course. And that’s OK, too. The act of writing itself is enough. It’s a little old-timey, in truth. It’s a bit of a lost practice. Now, we are either all so busy, don’t want to be old-fashioned, or think our endless stream of photos on our smartphones do the trick. They don’t. It doesn’t really make sense why they don’t; a picture is worth a 1,000 words, right? But they don’t. The private journal — offline, away from the cloud, handwritten, secret. Something human and so personal. Something that can’t live on the internet. There is no irony in your journal, no hot take, no condescension. It’s you. Truly you and nothing else. In our world of performative irreverence, the mask of social media is always tied on tight; a journal is a last stand of honesty. A catalog and a memorial of who we really are, deep down with nowhere left to hide. I need to write in my journal more.

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