Talk about the cat Vasily.

I don’t remember the details, but somewhere.

My wife and I are in the bedroom, not so late in the morning, not so early in the evening.

Suddenly, in the kitchen, the whistle is not the fork, not the glasses - understandably, the cat

The dividing table. What is punishable. Well, I break up, like a “Status,” and I run,

Soften in the kitchen. Three rooms with a turn. The Wife Running:

“You catch me, catch me!”

I don't know what the aunt thought, but in the kitchen she, the fucking, stumbled.