of cats names.
Over the years, I don't remember why, but called the kittens a fly, grew up a melancholy six-kilogram good creature, which - a dude - will not hurt the flies. One day, this valley with eyes had a star hour, and she justified the nickname: trying to jump onto the refrigerator, fell into the basin with cherry strawberries (only the strawberries suffered, because of the fact that the strawberries were used for the first time). It was already cold. The kitchen, of course, looked like Dexter was chasing the victim in it. The victim herself escaped a non-fiction scare. I officially declare: very, very difficult to wash the cat and wash the walls and floor when you are pressed by uncontrollable rust.