Aleta 2 continuation of Milena Zavojchinskaya. Torrent Milena Zavoichinskaya - Collected Works. Special Purpose Book Walkers

I gently shook my leg to shake it off, then leaned over and set it aside, and again tried to sneak past his mother. She didn’t move or make any movements, she just watched us carefully.

I'm good, really. Don't eat me. - Feeling very stupid, I tried to convince the animal that I should be released. - Honestly, honestly. I even shared the last chicken with your baby. But he came to me himself, I didn’t pull him out.

She finally turned her unblinking gaze from me to her baby. And with an elusively quick movement, she rushed past me and found herself next to him. Phew! I sighed with relief and almost ran away. Life doesn’t teach me anything; I shouldn’t have even stayed in the cave when I discovered a lair there.

I had already run about two hundred meters when this mother-beast appeared in front of me again and blocked my way. I don't understand anything. So how does she do that? Teleports or something? After all, she didn’t run past me, that’s for sure. She held her baby by the scruff of the neck in her teeth. We stood and looked at each other. Then she suddenly slid towards me, I even held my breath, and she suddenly poked her son into my hands, who was dangling in her teeth, funnyly jerking his paws. Out of surprise, I picked up the little animal and now stood with it in my hands, not knowing what to do next.

Hm. Thank you of course, but what should I do with it? I have no more food left, I have nothing to treat him with now. Maybe I shouldn’t give it to me?

The baby’s mother stood and again looked into my eyes without blinking. For a second I turned my gaze to the fluttering creature in my hands, and when I looked up again, we were already together. Class! Did she give me her baby for adoption? Holy shit. Does this even happen in nature?

Yeah, boy. Cool, we got you there. So, now we’ll live together and make good things?

The baby walked poorly, so he had to be carried in his arms. When my arms were already falling off from the weight, I wrapped it in my jacket and secured it to myself in a kind of sling that mothers carry their children in. So we finally got to the bottom. Having reached the river, I untangled the cub from my jacket, laid it on the ground, threw my bag next to it and fell exhausted on my back. How difficult these two days were. And now I’ve got a pet again. But I already swore that I would not have any more animals. I've had enough of Sher in abundance - enough impressions to last a lifetime. But no, again my compassion failed me.

We should also come up with a name for the baby, and then try to find out from people who he is. And how Pushkin does it - “Not a mouse, not a frog, but an unknown animal.”

Well, what about you, little one? Let's come up with a name for you? You and I are kind of like one team now. - I sat down and looked for the animal with my eyes.

But while I was resting, he hid somewhere in the grass, and my bag just lay forlornly next to me. And next to it is another bag, and it’s also mine. I blinked my eyes at this second bag in amazement. And she blinked back at me.

What we have, we don’t store;

having lost, we cry.

Kozma Prutkov

Aleta's preparations are finally over. How funny she is, she packed so many things as if she was going to the desert. At first I tried to hint to her about this, and then I decided that let her. If only she could do it all faster.

Thank the gods, finally. Brownie Petrus did not deceive me; the portal actually opened without any problems. It’s even strange how I didn’t think of this myself simple way. Surely the lack of magic affected my mental abilities. The trembling of the haze around us showed that the last stage had arrived, one moment remained, and I would find myself at home, in Alzerate. I mentally imagined the place where I planned to move. The portal opened and we were spinning, when suddenly Aleta jerked away from me sharply. Cursing, I tried to hold her, but something went wrong and she was torn off, and I was thrown out of the portal.

Oh, the landing wasn't as pleasant as it could have been. I was dragged across the grass and slammed into a tree. I jumped up with lightning speed, looking around, but... I was alone. Aletha was nowhere to be found. Grahchen tosh!!! What's happened? After all, everything worked as it should, I stood in exactly the place that I had mentally imagined when building the portal... A vast park in the vicinity of the palace. You can see the roofs of the palace; I’ll be there on foot in a couple of hours.

I briskly went straight to the palace to see the court magician. Father will wait, but I urgently need someone who can track the portal while traces of magical intervention remain. There was no doubt that the moatti was somewhere here in Alzerath. The moonstone in my earring glowed with the same steady light, and I still felt that everything was fine with her, our connection was still there. The only question is where it was thrown. And this needed to be clarified as soon as possible.

Having reached the palace, I burst into the laboratory of Master Linkenkal, our court magician. And, of course, I immediately came across it. After briefly explaining the situation, I asked him to follow me and help me track the portal. We got there quickly; on horseback it was not far at all. But... Master Linkenkal could not help me in any way. Confirmed that the second channel release occurred here on Alzerate. But he couldn’t track where exactly.

Grahchen tosh!!! What is this? How can I find her before she gets into trouble? We need to get into my father's closed library by any means and get to the records in forbidden book spells. Surely in the section describing the “Shanet moatti” ritual there should be some information about the possibility of contact between two moatti in such cases. After all, I feel that everything is fine with her so far, she is alive, not injured.

Yes, I will do that. Anreniel will cover for me, I will tell him everything. Together we'll come up with something.

The world is small, and the more acquaintances appear,

the smaller the world becomes.

I’ve seen cats without smiles, but a smile without a cat... - I quoted the well-known phrase in a trembling voice, looking at the second bag..

At that moment the bag began to tremble, and a round nose bulged in the middle, and then the entire muzzle. It’s just a surrealist painting - a bag, and from the bag my new pet’s eyes looked at me touchingly, and his nose moved funny.

Baby? It's you? - not believing myself, I called.

And then the bag somehow incomprehensibly spread out, changed color and texture and turned into an animal, which, comically kicking its thick butt, rushed to caress me.

Honestly, I just don’t have words. I still somehow survived the brutal mother who moves with unimaginable speed and ends up where she was not there a second ago, and then suddenly gave me her child for adoption. But here is her child, who in an unimaginable way from a four-legged fat and shaggy kitten turned into a black smooth bag, and at the same time managed to look and move her nose, and then back into an animal - this is beyond my understanding. I turned the animal over different sides, poked his fat belly with a finger, felt it, tugged at his paws - but he looked fine. Shaggy, plump, funny. Nah.

The baby and I brotherly shared our meager supply of food, namely a modest chicken foot and a packet of crackers that was in my bag. To put it mildly, we didn’t have enough food; we were so hungry. Considering that this puppy is not a puppy, but I don’t know who, and had a brutal appetite, so most Our modest lunch went to him.

Yes, baby, looking at you I remember one equally funny and equally voracious alien, Alpha. His phrase “I sat quietly, peacefully. Then I got hungry. Then it was like a fog!” - suits you exclusively. - I sighed. - I guess I'll call you Alf. Besides, you are the first living being that I have met on this planet.

that they serve the animals rather than the animals serving them.

Diogenes of Sinope.

The night passed anxiously, because I was very afraid that while I was sleeping, the cat would quietly die in the kitchen and in the morning I would be greeted by a fresh cat corpse. Therefore, at night I got up several times to check on the cat and give him another amount of water and milk. He was very exhausted, you couldn’t give him much at once, but he needed to feed him somehow, especially since he himself made no attempts to drink.

By morning, oddly enough, the cat more or less came to life, although he didn’t try to get up, but he carefully watched my movements and even drank some water himself. After breakfast, I ran to the neighboring shopping mall and bought shampoo for cats, a comb, some cat vitamins, and everything that is needed when a cat appears in the house. And also chicken. The animal needs to be fattened, but it doesn’t look like it will be able to handle dry food.

I fed him for two days chicken broth, boiled chicken and milk. And she poured medicine into her mouth through a dispenser. By Sunday evening he finally moved away and even began to try to get up. And although I wasn’t sure if this was right, I dragged him into the bathroom and gave him a bath with flea shampoo. I can’t tell you how much dirt was washed off from him, I couldn’t even imagine that in winter, with snow, you could manage to get so dirty. The cat fought back sluggishly, but overall behaved quite decently and we managed without scratches or cat tantrums.

After washing and drying, it turned out that the cat had long fluffy black hair with gray-blue streaks, tufts on large ears and a luxurious fluffy tail. It seems that this breed is called Maine Coon, however, I do not understand this issue. How such a luxurious cat ended up on the street, and even in such a poor condition, was not clear. Either he ran away and got lost, or the owners threw him out, but the cat was beautiful. Only very thin and intimidated, just hug and cry.

Well, kitty? How are you Have you recovered, poor fellow? Now that you are clean, you can enter the room. Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll live now until you get better and we decide what to do with you. “I picked up the cat in my arms and walked around the apartment with him. - What should I call you? Murzik?

The cat hissed and tried to escape.

Barsik? Oh, I know! You remind me of Cher, the same black and high-cheeked, big-faced. You will be Cher.

The cat looked at me in amazement and meowed.

On Monday morning I was getting ready for work, and the cat was slowly, staggering, wandering around the apartment and exploring the space. Although, to study it, there is only one room in the apartment. True, the kitchen is large and the bathroom is separate.

I made coffee and sat down to have breakfast and watch the news, and put food for the cat on the plate that I had allocated for him. Ignoring the plate on the floor, Cher jumped onto the chair opposite me, put his front paws on the table and tried to steal the sandwich from my plate.

Hey, cat, don't be impudent. “I put some food for you,” I moved the plate further away and put the cat on the floor in front of his plate. Ignoring this, the cat jumped up onto the chair again, placed his front paws on the table and stared at me expectantly.

Shaggy, you are an esthete, as I see, do you want to eat at the table? Well, okay,” I put the cat’s plate on the table, sat down in my place and stared at the cat with interest. When Sher began to carefully eat the boiled chicken from it, I burst out laughing. - Oh how! Did you run away from the circus or something?

Sher looked at me reproachfully and continued his breakfast. I chuckled and began to drink my coffee.

That’s how it was with us, we both had breakfast and dinner at the table, and during the day he ate from plates placed on the floor. With our diet, too, everything was not like that of normal people and cats. He flatly refused to eat cat food, neither dry nor canned. He ate the same thing as me - porridge, pasta, soups, meat, milk, even bread and potatoes. Only I got used to adding hot spices not when cooking, but only on my plate. For several more days, in the mornings and evenings, coming after work and evening classes at the fitness club, I gave him antibiotics. Sher recovered amazingly quickly and no longer resembled the starved, half-dead creature that Grandfather Vasil and I had picked up in a snowdrift. He ate very carefully, but in huge quantities. It’s just some kind of bottomless stomach, it looks like it was eating off after its forced hunger strike on the street or eating for future use.

What made me endlessly happy is that he is silent. I hate the cat’s screams and the fact that Sher was not heard, it’s just some kind of holiday. The only time he screamed like crazy was if I didn’t let him into the bathroom, when I was taking a shower or bath, or in bed. In the first case, he threw himself wholeheartedly at the door, trying to break through and screamed like a knife. And once inside, he sat on the washing machine and carefully watched me, periodically trying to fish my leg out of the water. In the second, I methodically kicked him out from under the blanket, and he just as methodically and purposefully climbed back, softening up something swearing like a cat. And having achieved his goal, he settled down next to me and slept under the blanket until he got hot and crawled out. He followed me around the apartment, as soon as I entered the apartment in the evening, he followed me relentlessly like a shadow. If I was sitting on the sofa, then he would sit next to me and snuggle, if in a chair, then he would lie on his feet. The only place, where he was not rushing after me, it was the toilet.

One morning I was getting ready for work and talking with Sher, and he, as usual, sat opposite and carefully watched me change clothes and get ready.

Well, Cher, can you help me choose an outfit for today? - I asked with a laugh; he had a very serious face. - Come on, tell me. This skirt and blouse or this pantsuit? Just keep in mind that I still have dance classes in the evening.

Sher stretched lazily, jumped down and came up to me. I watched him with interest. He’s still a very strange cat, either incredibly smart or well trained. Meanwhile, he demonstratively pretended to bury both presented outfits, walked up to the closet and looked back at me. This was already getting interesting. Standing on his hind legs, Cher leaned his front legs on the shelf under the hanging things and poked his jeans with one paw. He turned around, checked that I was looking at him, and again poked his paw, but this time at a thin woolen sweater.

Wow! Well, give it to me! - I was simply stunned. I clearly didn’t expect THIS from a cat. - Well, whatever you say, jeans means jeans. I feel like a witch with a cat as a familiar.

I quickly dressed in the outfit suggested by Sher, well, I didn’t want to upset the animal, I asked for it myself, and ran off to work. I had a lot to think about. It looks like the cat is really not simple. That's how much money and time it took to train a cat like that. And how did he actually end up on the street? And aren’t they looking for him all over the city?

And then our local drunkard, Grandfather Vasil, swam out to meet me from around the corner of my house. A harmless and overly sociable old man whom everyone knew and even periodically fed him or tossed him some money. He didn’t have a wife, he had been a widower for a long time, he had no children either, so he drank himself to death. No one had ever seen him sober, but he had never been drunk enough to lie under a bench either. Usually he was in a permanent state of moderate drinking and complacency. Even his name, Vasily, was somehow imperceptibly changed to Vasil, and he was addressed as “you” by both old and young. And now, swaying slightly, smiling and purring something under his breath, the old man was moving towards me.

- Grandfather Vasil, grandfather Vasil!!! “I practically screamed with joy and was ready to throw myself on his neck - well, finally, at least one living soul. - Grandfather Vasil, hello, help me get home, huh? And here’s a cat... And I’ll give you some money, you can go buy yourself something tasty.

- Hello, Aletka. Are you kind of late? Young girls should sit at home and not run around freezing their tails. What kind of cat? - Grandfather Vasil caught up with me and, smiling, breathed in wine fumes. Following my gaze, he leaned over the cat. - Ooh, killer whale. Ek, you got pinched. Not a tenant, I guess.

- Grandfather Vasil, help me drag the cat home. Still alive. It’s a pity, he’ll freeze overnight, and I’ll try to treat him, feed him, and then maybe I’ll give him a home somewhere. A? – I smiled ingratiatingly.

The grandfather bent down, put his hands under the cat and, groaning, straightened up. The cat hung limply and did not move. As if he wouldn’t die overnight in my apartment! What a horror! And then what should I do with the corpse? We need to quickly go into the warmth.

- Well, let's go, my dear. Cling to your elbow, keep your grandfather company. “The neighbor, grunting in an uncomfortable position, carried the cat on outstretched arms, and I, grabbing his elbow, stomped next to him. It’s so cold, oh my God...

We reached my apartment, I thanked grandfather Vasil and gave him two hundred rubles. The cat settled in the kitchen under the radiator, sacrificing, in the absence of any bedding or rugs, one of her unloved towels. And she ran to the computer to look on the Internet for information on what to do with frozen and starving cats. Call the veterinarian ambulance I was not financially ready; they charge a lot for services, especially considering that it was already Friday and almost night. After quickly browsing the forums of animal lovers, I returned to the cat.

During this time, he warmed up under the radiator, the ice from the wool melted and flowed onto the towel in a dirty puddle. Well, it looks like you can’t get by with just one towel; you’ll have to change it as soon as the wool dries. The cat still did not move and did not make a sound, only breathed heavily and hoarsely. Taking out the box with the first aid kit, I began to figure out what human medicines could be given to him now. Deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, I crushed an antibiotic tablet into powder, reasoning that he had probably already caught a cold, so he still needed treatment. And to sweeten the pill a little, I added a little crushed valerian tablet. Then she diluted it all with water and poured it into the cat’s mouth through a dispenser of some baby syrup left over from her brother’s child. Then she warmed the milk, and since the animal did not react and did not even try to drink, she used the same dispenser to give him warm milk, talking to him affectionately and promising that everything would be fine.

Those who keep animals must recognize that they serve the animals rather than the animals serving them.

Diogenes of Sinope

The night passed anxiously, as I was afraid that while I was sleeping, the cat would quietly die in the kitchen and in the morning I would be greeted by a fresh cat corpse. Worried about this, I got up several times at night to check on the cat and give him more water and milk. He was very exhausted, you couldn’t give him much at once, but he needed to feed him somehow, especially since he himself didn’t even try to drink.

By morning, oddly enough, the cat more or less came to life. True, he didn’t try to get up, but he watched my movements carefully and warily and even drank some water himself. After breakfast, I ran to a nearby shopping center and bought cat shampoo, a comb, some vitamins and everything that is needed when a cat appears in the house. And also a chicken - you need to fatten the animal, but it doesn’t look like the cat will be able to handle dry food.