القِطَّة الَّتِي عَادَت

The Cat Who Came Back

A Hayya Beena Naqraa story · Tier 2 · For ages 7–9

Cover page

القِطَّة الَّتِي عَادَت

The Cat Who Came Back

🎨 Illustration prompt
A soft watercolor scene of a Levantine apartment balcony in the early morning. A small grey street cat sits on the wide stone railing, looking calmly toward the viewer. Behind her, on the same railing, a tiny black kitten with wide round eyes peeks out from behind her mother's body. In the background, other apartment buildings with laundry lines, potted geraniums, and a soft pink-orange sunrise sky. Warm earthy tones, gentle and quiet. Aspect ratio 4:5 portrait. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 1

فِي صَبَاحٍ مِنَ الصَّبَاحَات، جَاءَتْ قِطَّةٌ صَغِيرَةٌ إِلَى شَرَفَتِنَا.

كَانَتْ رَمَادِيَّةً وَنَحِيفَة.

One morning, a small cat came to our balcony.

She was grey and thin.

🎨 Illustration prompt
A small grey street cat sitting cautiously on the tiled floor of a Levantine apartment balcony. Her body is a little thin, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws. She is looking up at someone we cannot see. The balcony has a clay pot of basil and a folded plastic chair in the corner. Early morning light, soft and pale. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 2

وَضَعْتُ لَهَا صَحْنًا صَغِيرًا مِنَ الحَلِيب.

شَرِبَتْ بِهُدُوء، ثُمَّ ذَهَبَت.

I put out a small saucer of milk for her.

She drank quietly, then went away.

🎨 Illustration prompt
Close-up watercolor of the grey cat bent over a small white ceramic saucer of milk on a tiled balcony floor. Her pink tongue is barely touching the milk. A child's bare feet and the bottom edge of pajamas are visible at the edge of the frame — the child is watching from a respectful distance. Warm morning sunlight on the tiles. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 3

فِي اليَوْمِ التَّالِي، عَادَت.

وَفِي اليَوْمِ الَّذِي بَعْدَهُ أَيْضًا. صَارَ الحَلِيبُ عَادَةً بَيْنَنَا.

The next day, she came back.

And the day after that, too. The milk became a habit between us.

🎨 Illustration prompt
A small calendar-like sequence in one watercolor frame: the same balcony shown three times in a soft row, with the grey cat in each — drinking, sitting, then looking up at the child. The child, around 8 years old with dark curly hair, is now sitting cross-legged on the balcony tiles nearby, smiling gently. Warm morning light in all three. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 4

سَمَّيْنَاهَا لَيْلَى.

قَالَتْ أُمِّي: "هِيَ هَرَّةٌ ذَكِيَّة. تَعْرِفُ أَيْنَ يُوجَدُ الأَصْدِقَاء."

We named her Layla.

My mother said: "She is a clever cat. She knows where her friends are."

🎨 Illustration prompt
A warm domestic scene: the child sitting on the balcony floor, gently extending one hand toward the grey cat Layla, who is sniffing the fingertips. The child's mother stands in the doorway between the balcony and the living room, holding a cup of tea, smiling softly. Behind her, a glimpse of a Levantine living room — a patterned rug, a wooden table. Late morning light. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 5

مَرَّتِ الأَيَّامُ وَالأَسَابِيع. صَارَتْ لَيْلَى صَدِيقَتَنَا.

ثُمَّ، فِي يَوْمٍ مِنَ الأَيَّام، لَمْ تَأْتِ.

Days and weeks passed. Layla became our friend.

Then, one day, she did not come.

🎨 Illustration prompt
An empty balcony in the morning light. A small white saucer of fresh milk sits on the tiles, untouched. No cat. The child stands at the balcony railing, looking out over the rooftops of the neighborhood, searching the streets below. The mood is quiet, a little worried, but not sad — just waiting. Soft watercolor in muted blues and warm beiges. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 6

فِي اليَوْمِ التَّالِي، كَانَتْ غَائِبَة.

وَفِي الأُسْبُوعِ الَّذِي بَعْدَهُ، كَانَتْ غَائِبَةً أَيْضًا. سَأَلْتُ أُمِّي: "أَيْنَ لَيْلَى؟"

The next day, she was absent.

And the week after, she was absent too. I asked my mother: "Where is Layla?"

🎨 Illustration prompt
The child sitting on the edge of the balcony floor, knees pulled up, chin resting on the railing, looking thoughtfully out at the neighborhood. The mother is crouched beside the child, one arm around their shoulders, also looking out. Both expressions are gentle and a little sad. The empty saucer sits nearby. Late afternoon golden light. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 7

قَالَتْ أُمِّي: "قِطَطُ الشَّارِعِ تَذْهَبُ وَتَعُود. لَا نَعْرِفُ دَائِمًا لِمَاذَا."

وَضَعْتُ الحَلِيبَ كُلَّ صَبَاح. فَقَط، فِي حَالِ عَادَت.

My mother said: "Street cats come and go. We do not always know why."

I put out the milk every morning. Just in case she came back.

🎨 Illustration prompt
A quiet watercolor of the child, in pajamas, kneeling on the balcony tiles and carefully placing a small saucer of milk down. The morning is misty. The child's face shows a soft mix of hope and habit — they have done this many times now. A potted mint plant sits nearby, the leaves bright green. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 8

مَرَّ شَهْرٌ كَامِل.

بَدَأْتُ أَنْسَى الصَّحْن. أَحْيَانًا أَتَذَكَّرُ، وَأَحْيَانًا لَا.

A whole month passed.

I started forgetting the saucer. Sometimes I remembered, sometimes I didn't.

🎨 Illustration prompt
The child sitting at a small kitchen table inside the apartment, eating a piece of bread with labneh and olives for breakfast. Through the open balcony door behind them, we can see the empty balcony — no saucer today. The child is not sad, just busy with the day. Warm interior light, simple Levantine kitchen with blue and white tiles. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 9

فِي صَبَاحٍ مِنَ الصَّبَاحَات، فَتَحْتُ بَابَ الشَّرَفَة.

وَهُنَاكَ، عَلَى الحَافَّة، كَانَتْ لَيْلَى.

One morning, I opened the balcony door.

And there, on the railing, was Layla.

🎨 Illustration prompt
A wide, emotional watercolor: the balcony door swings open, and on the stone railing sits the grey cat Layla, calm and familiar, as if she had never left. Morning light pours in from behind her, making her fur glow softly. The child, half in shadow at the door, is frozen in surprise and joy — one hand still on the door handle. The moment of recognition. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 10

وَخَلْفَهَا، قِطٌّ صَغِيرٌ جِدًّا، أَسْوَدُ كَاللَّيْل، بِعَيْنَيْنِ وَاسِعَتَيْن.

نَظَرَتْ إِلَيَّ لَيْلَى، وَكَأَنَّهَا تَقُول: "هَذَا اِبْنِي."

And behind her, a very small kitten, black as night, with wide eyes.

Layla looked at me, as if to say: "This is my little one."

🎨 Illustration prompt
Close-up watercolor of the grey mother cat Layla on the railing, and just behind her, a tiny black kitten peering out from between her paws. The kitten's eyes are huge, round, curious. Layla is calm, dignified, looking directly out at the viewer. The morning light frames them both gently. The whole image radiates quiet wonder. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

Page 11

رَكَضْتُ إِلَى المَطْبَخ. مَلَأْتُ صَحْنَيْنِ مِنَ الحَلِيب — وَاحِدًا كَبِيرًا، وَوَاحِدًا صَغِيرًا.

لَيْلَى عَادَت. وَأَحْضَرَتْ مَعَهَا أَحَدًا.

I ran to the kitchen. I filled two saucers of milk — one big, and one small.

Layla came back. And she brought someone with her.

🎨 Illustration prompt
The final, tender watercolor: two small ceramic saucers of milk on the balcony tiles, side by side — one slightly larger than the other. Layla, the grey mother cat, drinks calmly from the big saucer. The tiny black kitten, paws apart, leans cautiously over the small saucer, tasting milk for the first time. The child sits a little distance away, cross-legged, watching with a soft, full-hearted smile. Morning light, the whole scene glowing. Watercolor style. No text in the image.

كَلِمَاتٌ جَدِيدَة · New Words

Arabic	How to say it	English
قِطَّة	qit-tah	cat
هَرَّة	har-rah	female cat
حَلِيب	ha-līb	milk
شَرَفَة	sha-ra-fah	balcony
صَحْن	ṣaḥn	saucer / small plate
غَائِبَة	ghā-'i-bah	absent / away
عَادَت	ʿā-dat	she returned
صَغِير	ṣa-ghīr	small / little one
صَدِيقَة	ṣa-dī-qah	friend (female)

🗣️ Talk about it (for parent or teacher)

These are not test questions — they're conversation starters. Ask one. Listen.

Why do you think the family kept putting out milk, even after Layla stopped coming? Have you ever waited a long time for someone — or something — to come back?
The mother says: "Street cats come and go. We do not always know why." What does that mean? Is it sad, or is it just how cats are?
At the end, Layla brings her kitten to the balcony. Why do you think she came back to this balcony, out of all the balconies in the neighborhood?

✏️ Try it (a tiny activity, 2 minutes)

Pick one:

Look out a window or off a balcony. Can you spot a street cat? What color is it? Give it a name in Arabic — maybe Layla (لَيْلَى = night), Asal (عَسَل = honey), or Qamar (قَمَر = moon).
Draw the kitten from the last page. What do you think it will be like when it grows up? Will it visit the balcony, too?
Put out a little water for the birds or animals in your neighborhood. Notice who comes. Don't scare them. Just watch.

A note for grown-ups reading along

This story uses full vowel marks (تَشْكِيل) — every word is fully voweled, so a child sounding out the Arabic gets the support they need. By Tier 2, your reader is starting to handle two or three short sentences per page. Read slowly. Let them ask.

The half-wild, half-belonging street cat is one of the most universal experiences of growing up in the Levant — in Beirut, Damascus, Amman, Ramallah, Aleppo. Families feed them. Name them. Worry about them when they disappear. Cats are not pets in the Western sense here; they are neighbors. This story honors that quiet, patient kind of love — the kind that puts out milk for a month after the cat is gone, just in case.

If your child has ever loved an animal that wasn't quite theirs to keep, this story is for them.

— Hayya Beena Naqraa (هَيَّا بِنَا نَقْرَأ)