It was one of those peaceful days at our new place in the countryside. The sun was warm and bright, and the two cats—Luffy and Bory—were lounging beside us, soaking it in. Then our motion-detecting backyard camera sent an alert. We had installed a camera at the woodpile shed next to our house after spotting tiny footprints here and there, thinking a small animal might be roaming around at night. When we checked the footage, we saw her—a tiny, fluffy stray kitten seeking warmth in the shed.

For a few days, we let her come and go freely, keeping an eye out to see if she had a mother or siblings nearby, but it seemed she was alone. Surprisingly, she wasn’t fearful of humans—just clearly focused on food. One day, we placed a bowl of dry kibble on the balcony just outside the door, and she cautiously but confidently walked in, more interested in the meal than where she was going.

That was the moment we gently picked her up and placed her in a cozy room with food, water, and a litter box. She was startled but calm, as if she had accepted this change as her fate. We guessed she was about 8 weeks old.

The next day, we got her a vet appointment for a health check and her first vaccinations. She wasn’t afraid at all—only curious, her wide eyes taking in everything around her. After three weeks of isolation, it was time to introduce her to her new older brothers.

Luffy wasn’t thrilled. For about three months, he kept his distance, hissing occasionally, just like he had with Bory years before. Thankfully, our house has enough space for them to coexist peacefully. Bory, on the other hand, was indifferent at first—then curious, then affectionate. Before long, he was grooming her, playing with her, and napping by her side.

Even to us humans, this little kitten had the most charming personality. She started sleeping on my lap while I worked, curling up until I had to shift or stretch. At night, just before sleep, she would walk over to me, wait for me to lift the blanket, then crawl under it and rest her head on my arm. My husband is a little jealous—he tosses and turns while I stay still, so she prefers my side of the bed.

Feeding time was a bit chaotic at first. Each cat has their own bowl and feeding location, but Haru didn’t quite get it. She tried to shoulder-bump Bory away from his bowl more than once. For a few days, we fed her in a separate room, training her to understand the schedule and respect mealtime boundaries. Thankfully, she caught on.

After a couple of months continuously calling her by the name “Haru“, she began to respond to it. Now, when we call “Haru~,” she replies with a short “meow” and trots over with her tail curled like a question mark. She tries to sneak human food now and then—once grabbing an entire chicken leg and hiding under the bed with it! I caught her just in time, but I’ll never forget the look of disappointment on her face, as if she’d been robbed of treasure.

It’s been three years now. In that time, she’s carved out her favorite spots around the house—morning by the heater, afternoon on the windowsill, and nighttime beside me. Her journey from stray kitten to beloved family member was unexpected, but she’s become a one-of-a-kind part of our little countryside life.