Rus Articles Journal

How the cat the Saffron milk cap went on the dacha?

In a family of our acquaintances Vitaly and Tamara there lived a long-haired red cat - the handsome. It is natural that owners gave it a suitable name - the Saffron milk cap. In the city apartment its favourite place was on a sofa. The cat very much loved when guests came to the house and began to admire it. The saffron milk cap accepted various lazy poses to show itself in all beauty. If the attention of guests was switched by

to owners, then it came off a sofa and began to mew and rub loudly about legs of guests. It meant that the session of narcissism of a cat for guests is not ended yet. Of course, any talk quickly stopped, and all began to extol a beautiful Saffron milk cap with a new force. When it bothered a cat with order, he left on kitchen …

owners had a dacha built by them many years ago. The place for giving was so-so - Sinyavinsky bogs where there took place fights of World War II. It was necessary to go to this place from St. Petersburg two and a half hours in the electric train overflowed with summer residents. The saffron milk cap liked to live in the country to self-forgetfulness. As soon as he felt that the next trip on the dacha turns up, he right there began to demand that he was put in the developing metal basket for washing of fruit. The basket was small, and a cat - healthy, but he so compactly there kept within that Ljubo - it was expensive to look. The saffron milk cap sat patiently in this basket and waited when owners are ready.

Further the circus began. The electric train approached, the country people with backpacks, trunks and agricultural stock with fight took empty seats in cars. There were Vitalik and Tamara with the Saffron milk cap in a basket. By that moment in the car it was only possible to stand. Vitaly politely asked for permission from the sitting citizens, to hang up a basket with a cat on a hook about a window. The people, seeing elderly couple with backpacks and a cat, right there began to offer actively places to a cat and owners, and always at a window. Vitaly and Tamara needed only to choose the pleasant places. The saffron milk cap submissively sat 2,5 hours in the close basket, rocking on a hook in a step of the movement of an electric train.

People with interest looked at free entertainment and discussed that there it is probably not really convenient to a cat. Indifferent was not, all car quickly united in one friendly staff which is taking part in destiny of the Saffron milk cap. Time “behind Torahs - bars“ proceeded imperceptibly. When our friends reached before the giving, the electric train was almost empty.

When it was necessary to leave giving, the Saffron milk cap felt this moment too. In his opinion, it just that time when it is necessary to disappear from eyes of owners. At a cat was several zakhoronok where he hid longer to remain at the dacha. But owners were not a bast boards too. For several years they well studied places where the cat hid. It with scandal was taken and born to the house. First Vitaly tried to thrust the Saffron milk cap into its basket, but that rastopyrivatsya, doubling in a size, and did not wish to take place in a basket. Then owners found the solution and this problem. They put a cat in a big bag and closed the robber with a-headed zipper.

First the cat on the road from giving resisted and shouted more than two hours by a heart-rending voice, irritating passengers. But then it accepted rules of the game. On the dacha - in a basket on a hook, from giving - in a bag - a dungeon. Here the fancy and intricate cat the Saffron milk cap was such.

The cat endured the hostess who died of an oncological disease. Vitaly Zosimovich buried a cat when that was 18 years old, he quietly died in a dream. The owner still lives in the summer in the country where to him there come children, grandsons and great-grandsons. He often remembers the Saffron milk cap. Many times relatives suggested it to get other cat, but he always answers that the second such Saffron milk cap any more will never be …