drops on the glass. In front of him, people sometimes humorously minced, hunched over under an umbrella – and everyone was in a hurry. And Roll was in no hurry. He often fell into a sweet slumber, and when he woke up, the picture changed: either a flock of chirping gray birds flew, then a white cloud appeared in the clearing sky, like a castle made of sour cream. Thinking about sour cream returned Roll to reality, and he jumped off the windowsill, went to his bowl and refreshed himself with appetite. And when Erica came home from school or her grandmother came back from the market, they would certainly take the cat in her arms, scratching her tummy and back. The girl or grandmother was reading some book at that time, and the kitten, under the rustle of pages, studied letters and words with interest, and it even began to seem to him that he, too, could already read. This is how the kitten learned about life and the world.
On tv
The Chariot of the Seasons swept through the hot months and smoothly passed into a calmer and cooler period: autumn came. The trees were quietly parting with leaves that were now unnecessary. At parting they played with them, launching them like kites, and they soared for a long time in the air. From the yellow-red, now completely joyfully colored leaves, a fluffy rustling carpet was formed, like a mosaic, chaotic and logical in its chaos. Sometimes a fractional rain dabbled with thrown leaves, sometimes a mischievous wind amused, scattering them and re-creating new patterns.
As the leaves flew from the trees, so did the wool from the Roll. He also had autumn, a cat autumn called molt. Fortunately, cat autumn is not the same as that of trees – it does not strip cats and cats naked, but only adds flying fluff to the flying leaves. Roll liked autumn. He liked those rustling, rustling leaves. He was delighted when they jumped from the trees, and Roll jumped to them and caught them: curled up in a ball, rolled in this whole heap, grabbed, caught leaves, and more and more flew towards him. Autumn is a very good time of the year.
Then, when autumn began to grow up, and then grow old, she more and more often cried about her curly motley leaves, about the birds that had flown away to distant countries, who sang such wonderful songs to her, about the old days. Roll the kitten did not want such profuse and cold tears, from which he became completely wet. He sat at home. Since they did not have a stove in their house, he chose a TV instead of a stove, on which he now lay from lunch to dinner.
In addition to the fact that some kind of warmth emanated from this hefty box, it had many other useful and pleasant properties. For example, the TV box hummed pleasantly and reminded Roll of a purring mother. From this buzz I found such a pleasant languor that I wanted to sleep and sleep. But the nicest thing about the TV was that Roll was almost never alone. Always someone came, sat down opposite and looked in the direction of the cat. And this is very nice to know that you are not alone, even when you sleep!
People came, sat down and looked in the direction of Roll, and Roll with one half-open eye looked at them. Cats usually keep an eye on what is happening around them, even when they sleep. Sometimes, usually in the morning, my grandmother came, in the afternoon – the neighbors, and in the evening, after school – Erica, sometimes alone, and sometimes with her friends. Roll didn’t understand, but it was very funny to him that the TV always behaved the same: it hummed equally comfortably, warmed it equally, stood in the same place calmly. But people! Oh, these people! They were crying, then laughing, then suddenly jumping up from their seats, shouting and clapping their hands. And all this – looking into the warm box on which Roll was lying. Roll could only look at the mouse for so long. But, in the end, he jumped on it and most often ate it. And people did not eat TV. But Roll ate – no, not a warm-humming TV. Not. He ate sour cream. I ate sausages. I ate everything from the table that my grandmother left on it, leaving to sit in front of this mysterious box. These were safe and delicious meals. It is not for nothing that Roll is a born hunter and a relative, albeit distant, to such hunters as a lion and a tiger. And what could be more pleasant than an evening and calm hunt on grandmother's table?
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