Tiny Aba had just begun his new life after being rescued—an orphaned newborn, barely days old. His fur was thin, his limbs fragile, and his eyes… always wide with worry.
Today was bath day.
Warm water filled the small tub. It was gentle, shallow, and clean. But to little Aba, it looked like an ocean—cold, unknown, and scary.
As soon as his tiny feet touched the edge, Aba clung tightly to his caretaker’s hand, his small face scrunching in panic. A sharp, heartbroken cry escaped his throat.
“Eeeeeh! EEEEEEH!”
He trembled uncontrollably, curling into himself as if trying to disappear. The water reminded him of loneliness, of being cold and abandoned when he was found. He didn’t understand this was meant to help him.
His caretaker knelt beside him, wrapping arms gently around his wet, quivering body.
“It’s okay, Aba… you’re safe now.”
Slowly, she scooped warm water with her hand instead of placing him in the tub. She dripped it gently over his back, humming a soft tune. She never let go.
With every soft splash and every comforting word, Aba’s cries softened.
The fear was still there, but something stronger was beginning to rise—trust.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel afterward, Aba whimpered softly and looked up at her. His eyes still shimmered, but the shaking stopped.
He didn’t like water.
He probably wouldn’t for a long time.
But for the first time, he knew someone would be there to hold him through it.
And that made the fear just a little easier to bear.
