In the distant times, when the daughter was small and the husband was the comforter of the shop, we had a cat. Moses was lovingly named and rejoiced in her wonderful name until the birthday of the Komsomol. Oh, these all-knowing drunk comsomolks! "What is this Mosiah, with such eggs," said a fighting friend. "This is Muscat!" That is what it is. Once we were resting in the forest base, and the cat was lost. I found it, but in the process of searching a lot of confused other vacationers with loud screams: "Muscat! Muscat!" Some even jumped out with the bad guys, thinking - to spill the trade. If anyone does not know, there were times of dry law. These are the names...