We got a kitten. Taken from friends. Some Metis. Shaggy, strong, such a beautiful red-white color. Cute to the point of impossibility and just as mischievous. On the muzzle, it was directly written that his name was Stephan. That’s what we called it.
Stephan was an obedient boy. The only problem was observed with the tray. When someone was nearby, he did everything right, and if he was left alone, he could afford to make a puddle in any other place. Apparently, none of us are teachers, because exhortations and educational conversations had little effect. And no one raised a hand to beat and punish a child. We decided that he would come to his senses in time.
But one cold November evening, it was already quite late. We were driving from the supermarket and my husband noticed that a wet, dirty cat was sitting high on a metal bar at the bus stop. And below are three big stray dogs.
Two lay and one jumped. Tried to get a cat. The husband stopped the car and went to chase the dogs away. But they rushed at him barking, not letting him stop. Then the husband returned to the car, took a couple of purchased sausages from the bag, showed them to the dogs, and threw them away into the flower bed. They immediately rushed for food, and the husband jumped onto the bench, took off the cat, and brought it into the car.
She was all wet, trembling violently from cold and fear. And there were real tears in her eyes. There was blood near her ear.
It can be seen that the dogs even dragged her before she jumped onto the crossbar. The paws were also covered in blood. I wrapped it in some kind of rag, and we arrived home. The cat was washed from dirt and blood. Wiped, dried, fed. An hour later, she crawled out from under the sofa and purred at her feet. I went to Stephan’s tray. It became clear that the cat was domestic. Either she got lost, or the previous owners threw her out of the house.
We then tried to find them but to no avail. Remained with us. And since she was very calm and sedate, she received the name, Stephanie. She is rather large and striped. But with dark spots. Maybe purebred, maybe not. Don’t know.
Stephan accepted it immediately. Even began to look for nipples. The cat snorted at him, and he fell behind. But she took over his patronage. After the first puddle on the carpet, she gave Stephan a heavy cuff on the back of the head. He even meowed in pain. It was enough for two slaps in the face and our incorrigible Stephan began to diligently go to the tray always.
Stephanie taught him everything. Wash your face, eat carefully, and don’t run around like crazy in the middle of the night. Played with him. Stephan grew up as a solid, red, not at all arrogant, chic cat. A year and a half later, a surprise. Our Stephanie brought six red kittens.
We called them Stephans with numbers. Number one, for example, had white socks and the tip of a ponytail. And number 5 is a white heart on the chest. Everyone was in good hands. There were even more people who wanted to. That is how we live.
