"You will be found. You are not alone." — From a cat café owner to anyone who's ever felt invisible.

Dear Friend,

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the quiet moments between the purrs of the cats at The Kitty Beautiful. The ones where you can almost hear the hum of a stray’s heartbeat, the weight of their story before “found.” Every day, we welcome cats who once lived in the shadows: lost, abandoned, hiding from the world. And as I watch them now, some curled on sunlit laps, others whose tails flick against mugs of coffee, I wonder if they ever think about their past. If they, too, wondered if anyone would find them.

When I first heard “You Will Be Found,” from Dear Evan Hansen, it felt like the song was written for them. For all of us who have ever felt small, overlooked, or like a whisper in the dark. The words, though... Isn’t that what we do? We scroll through the noise of the world, thinking we’re invisible. But then something happens. It could be a video, a lyric, a chance glance from a stranger. Suddenly, we’re not alone.

Take Star. She used to hide in the corner of our cafe, eyes like storm clouds, as if waiting for the night to swallow her whole. For months, guests would talk to her, leave treats, but she never responded. Until one day she figured out that she was being seen. Jac, our cat wrangler, would sing "You are my sunshine" to Star. She didn’t try to hold Star. She just sat. Sang softly, “You make me happy…” Star blinked. Then crept closer. Now? Star is out where everyone can see her and pet her.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How a song can be the thread that pulls someone out of the dark. I remember watching that viral video of the student standing alone on the football field, mic in hand, singing “You will be found” to honor a friend. The numbers ticking up—30 views, 720, 2,326. I swear, it felt like a heartbeat going global. People wrote, “This made me cry. I’m not alone,” or “I saw this and called my mom.” A reminder that connection is always possible, even when it feels impossible.

I think of that when I watch our cats. Yes, they’re safe here... but what about their first night under a bush. The days when it rained and they had no roof, no friends, no home? They’ll never see the viral numbers or read the messages. But they feel the warmth of a hand, the steady rhythm of a scratch behind the ear. They know now.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s not about waiting for a song or a screen to validate you. It’s about the small, relentless love that shows up Like tuna in a bowl, or Heather singing badly to a cat, or a letter like this, typed at 3 a.m. by someone who also feels like they’re learning to be found.

If you’re reading this and wondering if you will be found, please know this:
Someone is walking toward you.
A hand is reaching out.
A song is being sung.
You’re not invisible. You’re not forgotten. You are, right now, surrounded by people who care about you, even if you can’t see them yet.

The sun’s still streaming in. Lift your head. Look around.

With hope,
The Kitty Beautiful


"You will be found. You are not alone." — From a cat café owner to anyone who's ever felt invisible.