Early morning. It has not yet dawned. My cat and I are in the kitchen. I drink coffee and smoke. The cat, having embraced me with all four of his legs, hangs on me and cuddles, blinking his eyes, splashing and dropping saliva, and occasionally sucking his nose into my cup to smell my coffee. These hugs last for half an hour. And I wake up so early precisely because of kissing the cat. Because then all day this red seven-kilogram brutal pretends we’re not acquainted. Half an hour of happiness.