One evening our apartment was called. I rushed to the door, and the cat Marquis followed me. Aunt Valya, my mother’s sister, stood in the doorway-she came to visit us from Poltava. Mom immediately hassled in the kitchen to treat the guest.
My father began to ask Valya’s aunt about the news, and I sat with my legs in the armchair, the Marquis jumped on me. “And why do you keep the cat in the apartment?” The guest shrugged her shoulders. “How many worries with him!” Dad stroked the cat and said: “It’s a favorite of the whole family! He has his own corner with a rug, he has a ball. He likes to sleep on the couch or on the windowsill, for some reason on the newspapers.” And when the apartment becomes cool, he will climb to our bed
It seemed to me that the cat understood everything perfectly. Perhaps he felt hostility to the guests. The Marquis jumped down from my knees, arched my back and, as if reluctantly, as if mentally deciding something, I moved to the front doors. Stopped and zamyukal. “Lesha, let the Marquis go for a walk,” my mother told me. “And do not let him come back while I’m here,” Aunt Valya shouted, either in jest or in earnest. But it happened. The marquis did not come on that day, or the next. We took care. My father told my mother that the Marquis was probably offended by Aunt Valya. Three days later the guest left.
One evening it seemed to us that someone was shaving in the door. I opened it and saw something like our Marquise on the threshold. Yes, it was him. The cat was terribly drained, it felt that he had been in fights with domestic cats. The ear bleeds.
The marquis crossed the threshold, looked around, as if wanting to make sure that Aunt Vali was not there, and then went to the kitchen, where he was always fed.
For a week the cat became a former handsome man and, as before, when the whole family was sitting near the TV, the Marquis settled on the couch, on the fresh issue of the newspaper.