There lived an old-old grandfather, and he had a farm of four rabbits. Just like my grandfather, a red cat. The grandmother was not there - she died, and the grandfather's one-only term was cut off. The cat was old, you can even say - old, sinking puff, encouraged in combat ears, almost lost odor and vision. He did not eat much, slept a lot, and went out on the street only when needed.
In his young years, the cat was heavily obtained from his grandfather, then for an unauthorized place for the toilet, then to jump on the table, then to catch mice. I don't know what the cat thought of the grandfather's pedagogical abilities, but the grandfather's upbringing was beneficial to the cat. Despite the fact that after each execution, the grandmother pressed the cat (so she sometimes called it) to the chest and calmed it by chewing, with the intention of smoothing it to loss of consciousness. The grandfather did not approve of the grandmother’s gentle impulses, but he kept silent.
Because he loved her very much, and she, in turn, loved the puffy red spider very much. Life improved, the cat obeyed the grandfather, caught mice and sometimes rats, and the grandfather instead did not apply repression to the cat.
This is how two veterans lived - grandfather and cat. Since the grandfather understood that the cat was already in a well-deserved retirement, he did not make any special demands on him.
Except to put it on your chest to heat it. What the cat was pleased to do, swirling with a claw. And grandfather in such moments went back to the past, with memories of his grandmother. The cat was her favorite.
My grandfather caught mice. But one day, pitying the old cat, he decided to beat him with a newly caught mouse. He pulled her out of the mouse, brought her into the cellar and laid her in front of the cat. The cat smelled her for a long time, slightly moved her leg, looked closely at the grandfather, pulled and quietly cried out and asked for the street. Here’s the shit, it’s rolled in the old man’s head, I catch his mouse, and he turns his mouth. The cat released.
The cat was not there for a day, which was just an unprecedented incident, as the cat was not delayed on the street for more than an hour. Grandfather was worried. But the cat appeared, as in the good old days, with the mouse in the remaining teeth. He laid it at the threshold, as he did in his cat’s youth, drank milk and went to bed.
Grandfather stood on a pillar, looking at the cat, then the mouse brought to him.
He remembered yesterday offering him a mouse caught by a mouse, and after thinking a little, he said to the sleeping animal:
Red, I didn’t mean that.