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The Moscow Cat

Hello

This is Natasha, and I am here with a story about a cat. I can’t say that he was all that cute and cuddly, but he was certainly quite a character. He was a Russian cat, and his story is based partly on real life, and partly on traditional folk law. And at the end of the story, I will tell you a little bit about our partners Aha.

Vlad was a black and white cat who lived in the city of Moscow. His apartment was on the ground floor of a large house. There were bars on the window to stop burglars climbing into the flat, but he could squeeze through and come and go as he pleased at least when the weather was fine. In winter, when the windows were closed and the flat was fuggy with central heating, he had to scratch at the door and meow to be let out. He did not like that much, as he preferred to do things his own way.

His owner was a young man who had a good job in the city. He had bought Vlad when he was a little ball of fluff as a present for his girlfriend. The girlfriend had left, but Vlad had stayed. The young man rented the apartment and he did not really mind that Vlad sharpened his claws on the furniture. He was not short of money, and he fed him on the best cuts of steak. Vlad grew up to be handsome and strong. For most of the day, the cat was left on his own in charge of the apartment. That was all right, because he was fully independent. He could open the fridge door himself, pull out an egg with his paw, break it on the floor, and lap it up. He did not need a litter tray because he could sit on the toilet like a human. He was strong all right. He seemed to jump almost effortlessly. In fact, when he leapt onto the kitchen table, he just took off vertically from the floor. He was not the most cuddly or affectionate of creatures, and if he sat on your lap, you had better beware – he might stick his claws into you.

Plenty of stray cats slept in boiler room beneath the apartment block, and at night, they came creeping out of the air vents into the garden. For the most part, they caught mice or they ate rubbish. You can imagine how scraggy and mangy they were. When they saw Vlad patrolling the garden in the moonlight, with his shiny coat, proud tail, and rippling muscles and they were all afraid of him.

“What kind of cat is that?” said one stray.

“He is an Egyptian God”, said a second

“No, he is the Tsar come back to life”, said the third.

And if the cats were afraid of Vlad, the dogs who lived in the house were even more scared. Once a German Shepherd tried to chase Vlad up a tree. But instead of fleeing, Vlad stood his ground and gave the hound such a lashing and scratching with his claws that he was never bothered by any local dog ever again.

After that famous battle, all the stray cats wanted to show Vlad their respect. If they caught an especially fat mouse, they would bring it to their boss-cat as an offering. Vlad was not usually hungry, but he felt he should accept their gifts, because the respect they showed him, was in the right order of things.

You might think of Russia as a cold place, but in the summer months Moscow becomes unbearably hot and humid. Even the air feels dirty and sweaty. Anyone who can, escapes from the city. One year particular year, the young man decided to go with a group of his friends to Thailand. Vlad saw him packing his bags and was not the least bit concerned. He knew he could survive perfectly well on his own. But his owner was not so irresponsible as to leave a cat without somebody to look after him. Although it was a hot day, he put on a long leather coat and gloves to make it harder for Vlad to bite and scratch him. There was quite a commotion, as he chased Vlad around the flat trying to catch him. Eventually he had to call a neighbour, a big practical sort of no-nonsense man, and together they managed to grab Vlad and squeeze him into a cat box. He did not appreciate that at all. Nor did he care for the car journey that followed. It made him feel sick.

The young man drove abou

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