It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The streams were long gone back into the earth. If we didn’t see some rain soon we would lose everything. It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the best miracle I have ever seen in my life.

I was in the kitchen making lunch for the family when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. I could only see his back. He wasn’t walking with his usual steps. He was obviously walking with great effort... trying to be as still as possible. Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to make sandwiches, thinking that whatever he had been doing was completed. Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful long step toward the woods. This activity went on for over an hour: walking cautiously to the woods, then running back to the house. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey.

He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill(溅出) the water he held in them. I stepped close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He might have a much greater purpose, I thought. As I came closer, I saw the most amazing sight. Several large deer stood in front of him. Billy walked right up to them, at the sight of which I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck (雄鹿) was dangerously close. But the buck neither threatened him nor even moved as Billy knelt down. And I saw a baby deer lying on the ground, obviously suffering from heavy loss of water and heat exhaustion, lifting its head with great effort to lap (舔) up the water cupped in my boy’s hands.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house. I followed him

This time I joined him, with a small pot of water from the kitchen

Growing up, my family always had cats—but by the time I got to college, I wanted one l could call my own. So, I visited Animal Home in Michigan, looking for the perfect cat.

There was a black kitten I nearly ignored. He was skinny and small and not even cute, but he stuck his paws through the cage, trying to play with me. He was clearly interested in me, so I asked to hug him. He curled up on my shoulder and began purring(发出咕噜声). Our connection was immediate. I adopted him, named him Adam, and brought him home.

Over the next 16 years, Adam and I were so close. He was gentle, sweet and playful. But one night last year, everything changed.

It was as if one day Adam was still acting like a kitten, and then the next day he was vomiting(呕吐)all the time and no longer acting like his usual self. He'd lost weight and I knew that he was sick. I took him to the vet(兽医)and the diagnosis was sad: stomach cancer. Worse yet, the vet thought he was too old for operation. All I could do was give him medicine to help make him more comfortable.

A month later, Adam got worse. I took him to the emergency vet, where they kept him overnight to administer fluids(输液). When I went to pick him up the next morning, on Christmas Eve, the vet said it was time to end his life. It was the best thing to do for him. With deep sorrow, I said goodbye to him.

Once I got back home, reality hurt me much. Usually, Adam was there to wait for me at the door. But he was gone, leaving an aching emptiness in my life and in my home. I suffered from huge pain. I told my husband I didn't want another cat.

Few weeks later, my friend Amy who rescued homeless cats called me.

After I brought the new cat home, my huge pain gradually disappeared.