The rush floods came. The peaceful brook of yesterday has turned into a roaring monster of wild water. In the rushing flow a kitten was adrift, hanging on to dear life as the waves carried it down and away. There was no hope for the kitten; the water was cruel, deep, dark and cold. Then, like in a miracle, a strong arm from a felled tree branch reached down in the right moment and plucked the half drowned kitten out of the merciless flood. The kitten was me. I let you guess who that strong arm belongs to.

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