I remember when we first brought our city cat through, on the street and never before, to the village, it mastered quickly. In the morning, I drink tea and look out the window. Beyond the house goes to the pond family with a dog, the cat washes on the lawn under the window. Distracted for a second literally, I see: a cat, pulling its tail, cheers boldly around such a small dog. You had to open the window and choke on it, he ran off the bars to the window, hero, shit. The cat was noticeable: his tail was like broken, short, like a riot. He walked around the village, as if he was born here, periodically he was returned to us by foreign people, in short, hungry he did not go openly. Crystals all suffocated not only in the underground, but also in the bath. And that creature, who had crossed his back by drunkenness, I would personally castrate.