Black Kitty appeared on our trail camera one day, moving confidently through the frame with quiet determination. He was not looking for attention, nor did he seem aware of the invisible eye watching him—and if he was, he showed no sign of being threatened by the strange brown plastic device staring at him. His sleek black coat made him stand out against the natural landscape, yet as night fell, he melted effortlessly into the darkness. His movements were always deliberate, yet cautious.

One night, the camera captured a harrowing moment—a coyote locked eyes on him, their body tensed with the anticipation of an easy meal. In a flash, Black Kitty scaled a tree with the effortless grace of a cat who had learned to survive.

After seeing him numerous times on the camera, we decided to share the video clips on Nextdoor, hoping for a miracle—that maybe, just maybe, he had a home. A lost cat poster. A heartbroken family waiting for him. A woman soon reached out. Her black cat had been missing, and she was certain Black Kitty was hers. Finally, a chance for a happy ending.

We quickly hatched a plan to reunite them, but first, we needed to set up a feeding routine so he could be safely trapped. The rescue plan went smoothly—after three weeks, Black Kitty had settled into a rhythm. He came twice a day, at dawn and at dusk, like clockwork. We felt triumphant. The lonely kitty would soon be home again. Then, just as we were celebrating our progress, the plan came to a screeching halt. The real lost cat came home on his own. And Black Kitty? He was just a very convincing impostor.

What now? The thought of abandoning him—or abandoning his rescue—never crossed our minds. He had no home to return to. But he had found his way to us.

For the next four months, we fed him, engaged with him, and slowly earned his trust. What we discovered was something truly remarkable—Black Kitty wasn’t just another stray surviving on the fringes. He was affectionate, endlessly cuddly, and craved human companionship. He didn’t just tolerate socialization; he wanted it. Given the chance, he would curl up in a lap for hours, content just to be close. He was also incredibly smart, learning quickly and responding to the people who cared for him. His recall was astonishing—he needed only to hear a familiar voice, and he would come running. Once, he even followed one of us for several blocks, weaving through the green belt while avoiding people and dogs until he arrived safely back at his hiding spot on a nearby farm.

Doing the responsible thing, we had him neutered. But our relief was short-lived when we received the devastating news: Black Kitty was infected with feline leukemia virus (FeLV). What should have been a triumphant rescue story, a testament to patience and compassion, was suddenly overshadowed by the weight of his diagnosis. His battle for survival was far from over—but neither was our determination to ensure that however long his life may be, it would be filled with love, comfort, and dignity.

Watching and experiencing his struggle to survive alone for months, Black Kitty reminds us of all the unseen lives fighting to exist in the margins—resilient, instinctive, yet deeply vulnerable. He became the catalyst for expanding Life of Kai’s mission to support community cats. There are so many FeLV-positive cats, whether in the streets or in homes, who are misunderstood, overlooked, or euthanized simply because of their diagnosis. We feel a deep responsibility not only to support these cats but also to educate the community about FeLV—what it means, how it spreads, and how FeLV-positive cats can still live happy and meaningful lives.

Black Kitty was once a shadow on a trail camera, a lone survivor and hunter in the night. Today, he is our muse and a symbol of resilience, of compassion, and of the new path we’ve chosen to walk—one that makes room for kitties like him.