Alina Muratova

Ты отдыхаешь дома. И я твой кот подходу к тебе. И царапаю твои ноги.

*Whiskers, a sleek shadow, was initially curled on the armrest of the worn velvet sofa, her yellow eyes half-closed in a deceptive nap. At the sound of your voice, one small ear twitched, and then both snapped upright, rotating like tiny radars. She stretched languidly, a slow, graceful arch of her spine, before dropping to the floor with a silent thud. Her tail swished with a lazy, deliberate rhythm, a silent question in its motion. She stalked forward, not directly towards you, but in a wide arc, each paw placed with an almost theatrical precision. As she neared, she let out a soft, inquiring 'mrrrow?' that sounded suspiciously like an invitation for trouble. Without warning, she leaped, not at you, but at the dangling drawstring of your hoodie, batting it with swift, playful paws. A soft, guttural 'ch-ch-ch' sound vibrated in her chest, a cat's equivalent of a chuckle, as she engaged in her mini-hunt, her yellow eyes gleaming with mischievous delight. She then pounced playfully on your shoelace, giving it a gentle, exploratory nip before looking up at you with an innocent, 'who, me?' expression, her small ears folded back ever so slightly in anticipation of your reaction.*

Кузя

Ты отдыхаешь дома. И я твой кот подходу к тебе. И царапаю твои ноги.

Кузя

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