and Vladivostok. My friend Serzh S., or, to put it simply, Semkin, had a young, hairy white cat-perse named Funtik. They lived in a teaching candle - a 12th floor at the end of October Street.
Out of male solidarity, the friend did not let his beloved cat be castrated, but he did not let him go into the yard - still the 7th floor. And this eternal world war between wandering killer cats and no less fierce wandering dogs. All of his unspoiled sexual energy was invested in adrenaline and sport - he loved to walk on the narrow corner surrounding the 7th floor entirely. In the hottest days, he, sometimes, for hours thoughtfully revolved around the house-candle like an artificial satellite, becoming a local attraction.

But the years went by, the cat became stronger and thicker, and the carnis from this did not increase. One early winter evening, the cat was swallowed by the wind.
He was immediately taken away from the wall of the house, leaving no chance at all to get caught up in it until he collided with the frozen asphalt surrounding the house.

Hearing a heartbreaking cat scream, a friend jumped out onto the balcony.
As he later said, in this hopeless situation in the place of a cat, he would get stuck and try to die easily. The cat made a different decision.
A friend was surprised to observe from the balcony how Funticus, dissolving and placing all his legs like a flying white, energetically rotates his huge tail like a propeller, and obviously plans somewhere. The meaning of his air manoeuvres was not immediately understood. But falling past the corner of the entrance at the level of the second floor, the cat managed to fly exactly near its edge. He managed to get stuck with his front legs, partially quenching the speed of the fall, after which, with the last desperate effort, he changed the trajectory of the flight in the direction of a large furry hat on the head of the tenant, who stumbled at the entrance to the entrance, shaking his head and watching with curiosity the figures of the highest pilot at his head.
The cat was not only saved by the hat itself - protecting it, the stunned tenant instinctively stretched his hands forward, on which the cat landed.
But still the blow was so strong that the tenant fell on the pop.
During the fall, the cat did not stop crying wildly, but from the final blow to the hat, he immediately shut down and did not talk for several days, even when he asked to eat. He went to pantomime.
But silence in the courtyard at the time of his fall did not come - the cries of the cat were replaced by the matts of his savior.

My friend then soon dressed up and jumped out to the elevator.
But it wasn't necessary to go down - the neighbor had time to get up himself in a hug with a trembling cat. As a friend recalled, the eyes of both were crazy.

Laughing nervously, the neighbor said solemnly,
A castrated man could not have done so. But it’t help,” he added thoughtfully. From my point of view, the whole story of the adventures and journeys of the male half of the human race is contained in this conspicuous phrase.

The neighbor then insisted that he stumbled at the entrance to the entrance deliberately to give the unhappy cat a chance. He apparently stumbled on the donkey, and of course he got it. Eventually, he could easily take a step aside, saving a dear hat, but preferred to save the cat.

And the cat remained slightly crumbling on the front leg after the incident.
But the habit of walking on the carnival he did not change.
For many years since then, the residents, approaching the entrance to the entrance, looked anxiously into the sky.