And one day, I guess I sang the wrong song.

He got so mad.

Azeem is my little goat.

He was really sick when I got him, and the only thing that comforted him was this one song I sang.

And he absolutely loved it.

And it almost sent him into a trance.

I tried singing him other songs to see if he reacted the same way, but that was clearly not the case.

He got so mad when I changed the song.

So now we have a specific playlist we stick very closely to.

He was actually scheduled to be euthanized within hours when I first laid eyes on him.

And at first I thought it was just a little box shaking, but when I looked inside, I realized it was a kitten.

His little body was shaking uncontrollably, so much that he was shaking the box too, and I just knew I couldn't leave him there.

I had to do something.

I took him in my arms and brought him home.

He was living with his mother, siblings, and older brother with his humans, protected and loved, but on the night during a party at his home, he was stepped on, and that's when everything changed.

Azeem suffered severe brain trauma and permanent disabilities.

His past owner decided that Azeem's new fate was too hard to handle and decided to give him up to the clinic.

The clinic became his new home, a dark and lonely box where he was placed to keep him safe from further harm.

Days passed and the vets were giving up on him.

Because he wouldn't eat and he had multiple seizures a day, and the vets were planning on euthanizing him that day that I walked in.

He was so small, just 20 days old, and was already facing the end, and I just knew I had to help him.

When we got home, I tried everything to get him to eat and drink.

He was so fragile, so scared, but I didn't give him up.

I held him close, feeding him drop by drop water and wet food.

When that first bit of food went down his throat, tears flowed from my eyes.

He cried and I cried.

We both knew this was a turning point, a sign that there was still hope.

We went to clinic after clinic, and each time the doctors were telling me that he wouldn't survive and that the trauma was too severe.

They suggested putting him to sleep, but I refused.

I couldn't give up on him.

Slowly, Azeem began to show signs of life.

He had so many attacks, sometimes six in just one hour, but he fought through each one.

I sang to him to get him through it, and he loved it.

I dedicated my entire life to him and other disabled cats, singing to him and making sure he felt loved and safe every single day.

I was his mom, and he was my special little boy.

Three years later, Azeem's defied all odds.

He is still partially disabled today, but he's here, he's alive, and he's happy.

And as long as I'm here, I'll keep singing his favorite song, the one that calms him down, and I'll never stop fighting for him.