To a kitten, the world is brand new — full of sound, movement and mystery. But when we meet Vivian June, the world briefly stands still.

We first see him at night. Just a flash of orange fur by the roadside — too small, too fast to reach. We pull over, hearts in our throats, but he’s gone before we can get close.

The next morning, I go back. And there he is. Alone, waiting — or just surviving. Maybe 6 weeks old and barely a pound and a half. Big eyes, delicate limbs. Likely the runt, left behind or pushed out.

He’s timid at first, unsure of me. But I wait. Slowly, he comes closer. When I scoop him up, he doesn’t struggle — he just melts into my arms, like he’s been waiting to feel safe.

The night we first saw him, my husband and I were on a drive and had been talking about guitarist Vivian Campbell. When I bring the kitten home, I say, “Meet Vivian June.” I gave him the middle name June because that’s the month we found him.

Our three senior cats meet him with quiet observation.

Two ignore him completely.

But Piglet is different. He stays nearby — distant, yes, but focused.

He keeps his eyes on Vivian, like he’s trying to understand him. It’s not immediate affection, but it’s something far more intentional. Watching. Waiting.

Piglet is our 13-year-old rescue, found by my husband on the roadside years ago.

We honestly didn’t think he would make it. I named him Piglet because of the constant little snorts and sneezes he made from chronic upper respiratory issues. But despite everything, he survived.

And not just survived — he grew into the happiest, most playful cat we’ve ever known. And now, with Vivian, he has a reason to play even more.

In time, Piglet doesn’t just accept Vivian — he welcomes him. Their play is gentle and wild all at once. It’s like joy being passed back and forth between them.

The other cats aren’t impressed. They sit nearby, quietly judging like disapproving roommates. But Vivian? He couldn’t care less.

He leaps and explores, unbothered by their stares. He claims space without asking. He knows he’s tiny — but he also knows he belongs.

Vivian shows us that even if you’re small, you can be strong.

If you feel forgotten, you are still worthy. And even if it seems no one sees you, someone does. Always.

And those two disapproving roommates? Vivian is loving them anyway — little by little, and they’re starting to love him back.

He isn’t just a kitten we found. He’s a reminder that family finds you. And that joy, even in old age, is still worth chasing.

Roberta Cykon is a Youngstown State University graduate and a licensed social worker and gerontologist. If you have any topics or questions you would like Roberta to discuss, email her at rmcykon01@gmail.com.