Mouse: A Gentle Flame from the Desert
There are moments in life when a soul quietly enters our world and changes it forever. One of those souls came to me as a tiny, frightened kitten hiding near the Khalifa Stadium in Qatar.
We named him Khalifa, but over a very short time, he became lovingly known as Mouse.
He was all alone. His mother had been killed, and his little body was trembling with hunger and fear. It took a lot of quiet patience to coax him close enough to rescue him. Even then, he tried to dart away. He was scared - but something in his heart must have known we were trying to help.
Mouse, safe at home — still soft and gentle after all these years.
At the vet, we found out he was gravely ill - so sick that his tiny body had nearly given up. He stayed in the hospital for a week, clinging to life with the help of a drip and medicine. I prayed over him every day, gently asking God to let this small soul stay.
He did.
Poorly Mouse at the veterinary hospital with a drip in his tiny paw 🐾
And when he was strong enough to come home, we tucked him safely into my son’s bedroom. Our house was already filled with love - four big rescue dogs, and two other rescue cats, each with their own story—but Mouse needed gentleness and space to heal, and time to grow stronger.
At first, he was snow white, with the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Over time, golden-red markings bloomed on his ears, tail, and nose - revealing that he was a Flame Point cat. The name always felt symbolic to me… as though he carried a flicker of divine fire that had never gone out, no matter how hard life had been.
Tiny Mouse with the bluest eyes
We called him Mouse because of how quietly he moved, how he burrowed into blankets or under beds when he felt scared. He still does this today when strangers come. But with me, he is all softness. He curls into my lap, follows me from room to room, and nestles close when I paint.
There is a golden thread between us - one I believe God placed long before we ever met.
““Sometimes the angels we need come wrapped in fur, with trembling paws and the quietest of hearts.””
In 2020, when we moved back to England, Mouse of course came too. He’s now six years old, and his presence is a quiet blessing in our home. His purr is like a prayer - soft, rhythmic, grounding. He doesn’t need to say anything. Just being near him reminds me that love heals slowly, but deeply.
Mouse’s story is one of quiet resilience, divine timing, and the sacred bond that can form between a human and a small creature who simply needed to be seen. He was never just a cat. He was a gift.
🐾 Sacred Snapshot
Mouse, resting on top of his favourite cat tree, wrapped in peace and contentment. A reminder that healing lives in stillness and love.
