Rus Articles Journal

The tramp of

the Cat in the village is not luxury of communication with animals, but severe need. Usually only strong standing on the feet families are able to afford to support a cat from a whim, having allocated it the place on a family sofa and indulging cat`s sterns. Such catches couple of little mice a year from passion, no more. In the majority of houses a cat - the tireless toiler who appeared not for delight of eyes, and for the sake of hunting for mice and maintenance of an order in barns, sheds and sheds. The more the economy, the usually is more than cats, feed them, than it is necessary, and they the for nothing do not eat bread. In the house especially do not let and if let, then not on carpets and sofas, and so, on a rag in a corner behind an oven. And if toilers - hunters are called by all equally murka yes of a barsikama or leave anonymous, then here to idlers - homebodies look for exotic names. Also also other victims of TV series and policy blink from the spring sun on Barbara`s porches, Izaura.

In our house of a cat all somehow did not get accustomed. They were indulged, treated kindly, but for some reason a chain passed on my childhood, without leaving a mark for 3 - 4 months of life in the house. Then somewhere disappeared, they were replaced by new. And went black, pestrenky, greyish, polosatenky. I had enough living creatures with the brother also without cats, mice not especially annoyed - toilers of neighbors through a wall tried.

A Boska appeared then. Cat. Fluffy, smoky with a white breast. At first it was called it is proud of Basilashvili, but already week later for coward temper angrily pripechatanny “Boskoy“. I during that time hardly was 12 years old, and I became attached to it with all the heart. We met imperceptibly, under quizzical glances of members of household at a table. My teenage reconsideration of life fell just on the period of its vzhivaniye in our family and when all a circle of its shpynyala and was never sent, my noble heart of the girl - the teenager, nobody understood and being a little other-wordly, hotly rose against unfair persecution. And it made laugh my family even more.

Gradually I forgot taste of the grain crumb loved by me - under a table fed everything to Bosa, keeping a crust. Even exotic brought in sausage, even the ice cream appearing in rural shop usually once a year in the frosts - everything I shared with the simple friend with amber eyes. I therefore I both from canned food, and from a stone always pinched off to Bosa a titbit prepared by then often on all family.

we washed with

After rare sorties on the street it in a bath, patiently listening to this thin cat`s groan hard of hearing - the prevention - a pier, is still sensitive, and I will scratch. Then I wrapped up it in a terry towel and fast ran to the house that my handsome did not catch a cold.

he Slept always with me, sensitively listening to steps in a corridor. Mother`s ideas of sanitary standards did not allow such liberty, and was considered that he sleeps “somewhere in the daughter`s room“. At a sound of its voice or steps I raised legs and bent them, and the warm live shaggy lump which over time gained the big growth and weight crept in this “arch“ and sat out until mother passes by. And at night it was extended along my body, and through a somnolence and a thin night dress I felt its measured breath with velvet purring. In the mornings he made up to my person, being stuck catlike with the head to me into a chin and cheeks.

Happened that in the long evenings when all already slept, I shared with it stories about the misadventures, that nobody loves me, and even the most intimate - my secret thought that took me from children`s home because the brother was obviously loved more, than me. It seemed to me that we with it are very similar, and sometimes even tears flew at me these minutes. And it lay, razvalyas, beside me. Also shchurit - shchurit the huge glazishch...

It became also my first model when in me thirst for drawing woke up. Tens, then hundreds of sketches with the yawning, sleeping and jumping cat long were stored at me in a children`s box. Even when I pored over homeworks, and Boska climbed up a desk and collapsed on notebooks, I did not raise a hand even to remove it. I pulled out from - under it the pieces of paper and was compressed in a table corner. Yes, it was the love, the love multiplied by a nedolyublennost and hostility of people around.


I of Bosk to me in a hard coin. Despite hundreds of preventions, it so never also scratched me, even when I pressed down it in a dream. He suffered my verbal outpourings at any time, never filling up and not running away. He waited for me at doors every day, meeting at a threshold by purring. He at anybody did not sit on a lap, only at me. And if there was an unfamiliar situation, he interrogatively looked at me - a pier and what to do - that? Was enough with time of one my look to encourage or stop it. I was sense of his life because more nobody loved it in the house.

came the way of it for his short cat`s life Much. To arrival of the father he who overslept on logs at an oven was permanently driven by a kick which always frightened him. This place was by right father`s - there, on the warmest place, it dried the kersey boots, verkhonka and a cap. And Boska bent by an arch with the pupils expanded for fear awkwardly bryakatsya about a floor, striving to slip fast by. But the father, having already fun, began “to lecture“ him by a strict voice, and the cat plastatsya on a floor, narrowed eyes, pressed ears and was stolen, stolen by a gray rag to a saving corner of an oven. Then the father purposely dropped something or loudly shouted something it seems “And well take care!“ . The cat was thrown up and tore claws in literal sense - on a floor linoleum lay, and cat`s claws helplessly clanked on it, quicker and quicker. My heart clenched, but somehow I could not influence a situation - the father had the idea of “beast“ who “has to know the place, and it has to be not on our neck“. The father a relentless shadow approached the cat dying of horror who is already filling up in senseless race on one side and suddenly some of claws surely clung to a saving tack, and, having made a start from it, it sharply gave out forward, this impulse was enough for it to reach the cat`s hole in a floor conducting in fell. Happened that it flew by by turn to this hole, and then deployed its case, and in the last desperate attempt it scraped on powder, extended the body on the word of honor and dived into saving underground blackness.

the Brother liked to drive Boska into a corner and to frighten by a broom, sticking with it directly into an attractive face. In a condition of silent hysteria the cat sniffed and jumped so high that caused delight in the brother. However, at my presence he tried not to do it because here I rose in defense of the favourite.

Mother just it did not love

, banishing from chairs and sofas and grumbling on its wool.

And my affair with the rural tramp lasted until somehow it was gone. Business was the share of spring, of the impassability of roads when the kitchen garden costs lax medley, and only on depressions in the ground still friable snow lies. I remember still as mother worried that she will not be able to escape on session in institute, having started at it with the father and finishing already alone. The father could not throw all economy for the periods of the sessions, as if on purpose, coinciding with mother`s and therefore twice a year for a month we were left without mother`s hands.

I here on the eve of mother`s departure Boska was gone. In the evening I was perplexed, since morning began to worry, by the night already grieved with might and main. Mother left, the father vanished at work long, the brother drove with friends somewhere on the street, and I sat in the house one. Also waited, waited, waited. Each hour there were I to a porch and called the Boska. The thaw ringed, porch boards already got warm so that it was possible to stand barefoot, and I stood, having thrown with the coat, and with hope appealed hourly till late evening when it was already necessary to put on slippers. I waited five minutes, it was a certain indispensable condition at which observance it could return. And could not return... But without this five-minute tribute as then it seemed to me, it will not return.

to me has nobody was to consult - where it, the homebody and the neatnik, to look, where to glance to find. I oblazit attics of all houses nearby, all mows, barns, but did not meet even traces. Polls of neighbors gave nothing, all puzzly shrugged shoulders: “Your cat lived?“

In three days I put on old father`s tarpaulin boots and went to the far-away country of a kitchen garden where the big birch grew. Dropping and champing each step, I reached a familiar white trunk and began to call Boska. Around everything sang and had fun, intoxicated with earth couples. I called, called, the voice became more and more hoarse, and I burst out crying. I broke. I lost hope.

I here then for the first time I thought of God. In my understanding there was Someone, considering that there is Something, operating everything on the earth... And I begged as I was able as most of faithless people - the most usual words prays: “My God, God if You are - return me Boska! I so love it, to me it is so bad without it and it is heavy, I cannot without it, please, give me Boska! Then I will believe in You, to execute your precepts, your rules, the word of honor, I all - everything learn, only give me Boska!“ For me it was quite serious act because I renounced the religious freedom as I then understood it. I vowed, such naive and silly, but I would constrain it. That prayer gave me hope. For three days. I just waited. Did not call on a porch of the friend any more - just sat and waited.

A then - all... The hope was gone, some sad despair and evil belief came that there is definitely no God. The wound ceased to bleed and gradually dragged on. Later few months there was other cat, then one more, and they stretched a chain faceless for me chernushka, nights, snowballs...

could be finished with

on it, but 8 years later history received unexpected continuation.

A lot of things occurred in our family... By then I studied at university, with me in the hostel there lived mother trying to find work in the city. And somehow once in drunk waste she began to argue on how it is difficult to love children. And suddenly: “And to Bosk you remember? Same I strangled him: Then it was necessary for me on session, and at it deprive. Who would treat him there? You would perezarazitsya, there now and it was necessary. You represent, the hands!.“ She looked at me weepingly. I kept silent. Mother knew that this cat meant to me then, and still she could. I vividly imagined this picture as it brings a cat in a barn as covers with a loop: And as he looks at it the amber scared eyes. “And for certain did not even scratch!.“ - flashed at me in the head.

Happened, there were at us in a family to Boska cases cutting depriving, and even discharged of school for a month, progress of the brother sharply fell, and I remember how mother hardly had to train then the brother on study and to run from office for lunch to process the brother, me and a cat. And what shame was in the opinion of the public - deprive at such successful children, ouch - yay - yay. Here therefore it was also solved...

Now I am going to become a mother the third time. I began to see many things differently. And still I have no definite answer to these questions - whether “mother differently could arrive then?“ and “to whom it was heavier - me or it?“. Only directly itches sometimes: “And for certain did not even scratch!.“