— Mish, we’ve been living together for three years now—maybe we should get ourselves a kitten?
Julia turned to her boyfriend, who was slouched on the sofa, absentmindedly flipping TV channels with a blank expression.
He turned to her and frowned.
— What else are you dreaming up? Shall we get a piglet next? And come with cockroaches for free.
— Mish, what are you talking about? What cockroaches? What does a kitten have to do with cockroaches?
Julia asked, pouting.
— The most direct connection! It’ll drag food all over the apartment, crap behind the couch, shred the furniture and the wallpaper. Besides, I’ve got problems at work right now—my salary’s been cut. And expenses for this “kitten” of yours will start piling up: you won’t buy just any food, you’ll want the most expensive stuff! Then come little vests, jumpsuits, slippers, hats… and after that, shots, toys, beds. I know how you are! — Misha went on. — So let’s just drop it.
— “You”? — Julia looked puzzled.
— Well, “you women,” — Mikhail hemmed and hawed, then added quickly, — you’re all the same!
Julia and Misha had been living together for three years, but he still hadn’t proposed.
— Are you unhappy? Is a stamp in the passport really the most important thing in a relationship? I love you—what’s with all the pomp and ceremony? — he once said when she started dropping hints: picking a wedding-themed movie, leaving her browser tabs open on wedding photos.
— Oh, Mishanya, I want to be your official wife! — Julia pouted. — And I don’t even know what to call you. “Live-in partner” sounds rude, makes me picture a drunk guy with a three-day stubble in stretched-out sweatpants and a tank top. “Love-nik” is just awful.
— Call me “my man” and don’t worry over such trifles, — Misha waved her off.
Julia never brought it up again, but she secretly hoped that someday he’d change his mind and give her that ring.
When Misha brushed off the kitten idea, Julia felt down—but she refused to give up. A few days later, she sent him pictures of adorable fluffy kittens in every color: “Look how precious!” she texted.
“Let’s talk at home,” he replied curtly. That evening, he came home late, hurried through a shower, grabbed a snack, and collapsed into bed.
— Mish, you promised we’d talk, — Julia reminded him, and he only groaned.
— Jules, for God’s sake! I work like a dog, I can barely crawl into bed—I’m not up for chats! Let’s do it tomorrow!
— Okay, — she sighed.
A minute later, Misha was already snoring.
“Where do you even work so hard?” Julia thought, eyeing him. “You’re not on a factory floor; you sit in an office all day shuffling papers. What keeps you busy until evening?”
But she didn’t wake him. She decided to wait until morning.
— Good morning, — Misha grumbled as he entered the kitchen.
— So, what about the kitten? — Julia reopened the unpleasant topic. — You’re always at work until evening; I’m lonely here all day.
— Then find yourself a normal job like everyone else instead of sitting at your computer from morning till night. You’ll rot away here, — he snapped, pushing his coffee mug away. — Ugh, I’ve lost my appetite!
— I have a perfectly good job, — Julia was hurt by his outburst. — I work from home, you know. Unlike you, I don’t spend forty minutes commuting each way. And our jobs are almost the same! I don’t know what you’re so exhausted from. Mish, maybe a pet would bring us closer? Then we can have a baby later!
— Jules, a baby is a huge responsibility! We’re only twenty-five—I’m not ready! — Mikhail exclaimed, sliding his plate closer.
— Then let’s practice on a kitten, — Julia persisted.
— And besides, I’m allergic to animals, — Mikhail declared. — My nose gets clogged, I weep, my ears itch and swell. And there’s so much fur that no vacuum can handle it!
— Hmm, I’ve never heard you mention an allergy before. What about your friend’s cat? You always held it on your lap.
— You mean that ugly hairless one? He’s allergic-friendly—no fur. And I only held him because I was afraid to offend him—he jumped into my lap all on his own. So I sat there, endured it, waiting for him to crawl off.
— He’s not ugly—he’s a very cute Sphynx! — Julia protested. — But I prefer fluffy ones.
— No! I told you—my health comes first!
One evening, Julia was gazing out the window at passersby after finishing work. Misha warned he’d be late again. Suddenly, she thought she saw him step out of a taxi and head for the building. She dashed to the kitchen to put the kettle on and start dinner—she hadn’t expected him so early. But neither five minutes nor half an hour passed before Misha returned.
— Must’ve been mistaken, — Julia muttered.
Misha arrived four hours later, tired but smiling.
— Hey! We submitted all the reports ahead of schedule, and they promised us a bonus! Though I had to stay much later than usual.
— Congratulations! Meanwhile, I’ve had hallucinations from loneliness—I thought you got home in a taxi four hours ago. But I guess I was wrong, — Julia laughed, not noticing the tension in Misha’s face. — So, since you’re getting a bonus, maybe we can get that kitten?
— You again? I said no! Find yourself something to do—knitting or embroidery, maybe, — Misha snapped.
Julia swallowed her hurt and said nothing. The next day she decided to go for a walk. Outside, a young woman was walking along the building, leaning over, peering into the basement windows.
— Goldie, kitty-kitty, where are you, little one? — she called, nearly in tears.
— Your cat ran away? — Julia shouted, and the woman nodded.
— He slipped out yesterday when my boyfriend came over, and no one noticed. I only realized this morning he was gone. He’s terrified of everything. Where can we look?
— Let’s search together. What does he look like? — Julia immediately forgot about her stroll.
— He’s orange. We named him Goldie—like gold, — the cat’s owner smiled through tears.
— You go that way, I’ll go the other, — Julia suggested. They called him for half an hour. Finally, an anxious orange face peeked out from under the basement.
— Goldie, come out, — Julia squatted and called softly. The kitten hesitated, then crept partway out, and Julia deftly scooped him up. He was a young, long-haired bright orange tom, ears flattened in fear, hissing curses but not struggling.
Hearing her cat’s wild yowls, the owner ran over.
— Goldie! My baby! You’re found! Oh, thank you so much! How did you manage that? He normally shuns strangers. He barely tolerates my boyfriend—at most he’ll lie on his sweater, — the woman laughed. — I’m Lilia; I live in building four. I moved here two months ago. And you?
— I’m Julia. I live here with my boyfriend. I’ve been trying to talk him into getting a kitten, but he’s allergic to cat fur, unfortunately.
— That’s too bad, — Lilia sympathized. — I was about to ask if you wanted his brother. My Musa just had kittens. We gave them all away—only Goldie and little Musyusha are left.
— Can I have him? — Julia asked, pulling out her phone. Lilia recited her number, Julia saved it and dialed.
— Oh! I dashed out without my phone, — Lilia gasped, — but I’ll know it’s you calling. We’d better go inside and clean up—he’s been in that basement all night, the poor thing.
Lilia scooped up Goldie and disappeared into her building. Julia was about to continue her walk but paused to check herself—her clothes were covered in orange fur.
— Oh, poor thing, he must have shed from stress, — she sighed and headed home to change.
At home, she stripped off her hoodie and began removing the fur, then noticed Misha’s sweater already in the washing machine.
— Huh, — Julia wondered. — He only wore that yesterday morning. Did he get it dirty already?
She pulled out his sweater and froze: it was covered in the same orange fur as her hoodie.
— What is this? — Julia’s heart sank. She waited for Misha to come home. He arrived late again, explaining they were celebrating quarter-end success.
— Misha, what’s this? — Julia barely listened as she thrust the fur-covered sweater at him.
— Probably I brushed against someone on the bus, — he shrugged, but his eyes darted.
— Really? And no sneezing fits or swollen ears? — Julia asked sarcastically.
— What are you implying? — Misha tensed.
— Nothing, — Julia tossed him the hairy sweater and went to the kitchen. Misha went to clean it off.
His phone rang on the table in the bedroom, but he didn’t hear it—water in the bathroom drowned out other sounds. The ringtone was insistent, so Julia decided to check.
“Ryzhiy” (“Redhead”) flashed on the screen. Julia was about to ignore it—let him keep ringing—when she recognized the number. She grabbed her own phone and dialed Lilia.
— Julia, good evening! Is something wrong? — Lilia’s surprised voice on speakerphone stunned Misha.
— Nothing’s wrong here—except apparently Misha is allergic to cats, and you never knew? — Julia laughed.
Misha turned beet-red.
— I thought he lived with his mother. I had no idea he had a girlfriend. That jerk! — Lilia, furious, hung up.
— Well then, son, — Julia turned to Misha, barely restraining herself from throttling him, — “Mom” wants to live alone. Pack your things, your other people’s cat hair, and get out!
— Jules, wait, let’s talk, — Misha took a step toward her.
— Don’t come any closer or I’ll scream! — Julia threatened. — I can’t stand the sight of you! Find another apartment. And don’t force me to get my brothers involved if you want to keep the rest of your life and your nose intact.
— You’re so foolish! — Misha snapped back. — I’m sick of all these cats! All they bring is fur! Go live alone! Be an old maid with thirty cats!
— Better with cats than with an animal like you, — Julia called after him as she slammed the door.
The next day, Lilia was waiting for Julia on the street.
— Julia, I really didn’t know he had someone else, — she looked embarrassed. — He disappeared here almost every evening for two months, saying no one except his mother was waiting for him. And he wouldn’t stay over—he didn’t want to upset her before introductions.
— Never mind! — Julia waved her off. — Is the kitten still unclaimed?
— No! — Lilia was surprised by the question.
— Then sell him to me!
— He’s yours! — Lilia cheered.
Half an hour later, Julia was cuddling the orange kitten that looked just like his father.
— There you have it—the price of happiness, — she smiled, handing Lilia a ten-ruble coin.
Misha was left alone, but the two girls had become friends—bonded forever by a cat.
