Until the age of 17, I lived in a small village with my parents, older sister and younger brother. We lived modestly, ran our own household … I was a very quiet teenager, I studied well at school, I didn't get involved in bad companies, maybe that's why they considered me a "black sheep" … And what kind of entertainment can there be in the village?
Someone whiled away the time, attending "dances" in a local club, someone found "entertainment" in drinking alcohol … Well, my soul was warmed by taking care of pets.
We had several of them: a huge dog Berkut - a cross between a shepherd dog and a rhinoceros, a small lap dog Marsik and an old cat Murka. By nature, I am a cat lady, so from almost every Murka litter I tried to leave a kitten, or at least give the kittens into good hands.
I was 11 when Murka lambed right on my birthday. There were six of them. Small, rosy, squeaking lumps. I didn’t leave the box for hours. If Murka had to go about her business, then, as they say, she could completely rely on me.
I was eventually allowed to be left alone. I named it Syrup. It was an amazing cat! Handsome: with an ash-black stripe from head to tail along the back, with huge eyes, so smart and affectionate.
The syrup seemed to understand everything at a glance or half a glance. He will look at you with his black, bottomless eyes, meow, as if he wants to say something.
It used to be, you stretch out your hands to him, say: "Syrup, go on your hands," and he runs up, sits on his hind legs, and pulls his front legs towards you …
He slept only with me. Either next to on the pillow or on the chest. He came, jumped at the foot of the bed, immediately began to rumble, like a locomotive, announcing its arrival, slowly walked along my legs, stomach and with a clear conscience thumped to sleep on my chest. It was so convenient for him. Already a hefty cat, he did not give up his habits. It was hard for me to sleep like that, but out of love I endured. She was afraid to move so as not to wake her pet.
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Even my mother said that he loves me more from the whole family. This cannot be explained in words, it sometimes seemed to me that Syrup and I were kindred spirits. That there is some kind of invisible connection between us. Maybe in a past life I was a cat, or my favorite is a person who was reborn into a cat … Okay, nonsense, of course …
And then I left … I graduated from high school, entered the university in the regional center, began to live in a hostel. It took three days to get to my village, so I didn't even think about frequent trips home. And what kind of trips could there be when a ticket to home cost like my scholarship. I really missed home. All over. There was no mobile connection in the village yet, so they rarely called up with their relatives at the hospital, wrote letters to each other. I've always wondered how my Syrup is doing there. Mom said that everything was fine, she was running somewhere again during the day, and in the evening she came home to sleep.
I could only come home for the New Year holidays. The joy of meeting, hugs, questions from the very doorstep …
The syrup did not meet me, as he did before, when I was returning from school …
And my mother admitted that my pet had died in the fall. They didn’t tell me, they were afraid to upset me so that nothing would affect my studies.
Immediately after my departure, Syrup got bored. I got very bored. Mom said that at first he was looking for me for a long time. He ran around the house, meowed, looked into everyone's faces, as if asking where his little mistress was. Then he stopped eating. For days he could sleep in my room, curled up on a pillow. Emaciated.
The parents did not know what to do. They even left one more kitten for the company. But nothing helped.
And one day he began to say goodbye. I got to everyone, meowed, walked around the house and left … Forever … Cats always go to die in another place, why - I still don't understand.
I sobbed all evening then. They cry so much for a person who has passed away. And here is the cat. But for me it was not just a cat, it was a dear lump …
How I managed to fall asleep with my head buzzing with crying, I do not know. The awakening was abrupt, as if someone had poured icy water … I heard that someone softly jumped at the foot of the bed … And purred … Then - the weight of the cat's legs on my legs, the approaching rumbling … It was Syrup. He stopped on my chest, looked into my tear-stained eyes with his eyes, as if soothing, saying that here I am, everything is fine with me. I was not even scared, I even managed to whisper his nickname, however, my outstretched hand fell into emptiness … And such a familiar, such an expensive weight on my chest disappeared … I cried until the morning.
And in the morning, having heard my story, my mother, not even surprised, said that my Syrup just came to say goodbye … Finally he "waited" for his beloved mistress …
Author RMEngy
