The day little Reno arrived at his new home, everything felt strange. The air smelled different, the sounds were unfamiliar, and even the light seemed too bright for his tiny eyes. He had just been rescued — taken away from the noise and danger of the place he once knew — but he didn’t understand that this new place was safe.
At first, Reno sat frozen in the corner of his soft blanket. His little hands trembled, and his tail curled tightly around his body. When someone moved nearby, he flinched. Every sound — the chirping birds, the rustle of leaves, even the soft voice calling his name — made him jump. His eyes darted around in panic, searching for a familiar face that wasn’t there.
He began to cry — soft at first, then louder, desperate cries full of confusion and fear. It broke the rescuer’s heart. Gently, they sat near him, not too close, and began to hum softly. The calm voice and warm air slowly eased his panic.
After a while, Reno peeked out from behind his tiny arms. A warm hand offered him milk. He hesitated, sniffed, and finally took a sip. The warm taste reminded him of comfort — and his cries began to fade.
The rescuer smiled, whispering, “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now.”
By evening, Reno was resting quietly on a soft towel, his body relaxed for the first time. His tiny eyes blinked sleepily as he curled up, feeling warmth, safety, and love surrounding him.
He didn’t know it yet, but this new place wasn’t scary anymore — it was home.
