My cat passed away today. I dedicated a short story to him. The translation might be a bit rough in places, but I hope you understand me.

___

I opened my eyes. The only thing I remember is pain. There is nothing else in my head, just blurry spots. I wonder what happened? Although, it doesn't matter anymore. I clearly understand where I am and why I am here.

Around me is a desert stretching for hundreds of kilometers. Or maybe a thousand, there is nothing on the horizon except a bluish haze. The sun hangs high, blinding with bright white rays. The sky is crystal clear, like a baby's tears. The sand under my bare feet should be scorching, but I don't feel its heat, just as I don't feel the sun's heat. A quiet tranquility envelops me, no unnecessary emotions except peace. I like it.

An old woman stands nearby. Even on such a bright day, the darkness under her hood is deep. I should be scared, but the wall of calm is unbreakable. The old woman seems like a friend I haven't seen in a long time. In her bony hands, covered by a cloak, lies a black woolen lump.

— Is it you? — I ask, struggling with dry lips.

The lump raises its head. Ears pricked up. A pointed muzzle with green eyes turned to me. Your pupils narrowed, and you seem to be looking at me appraisingly. A second later, you jump from the old woman's hands like an arrow and rush to me. Your glossy long fur flutters in the wind as you trot with your feline nature. Healthy and unharmed. Alive.

I reach down, and you stand on your hind legs and nudge my hand. Just like in the old days. My eyes sting. You waited for me, my battle cat.

— Well, buddy, will you walk me home?

You purr and weave around my legs, as if agreeing with me. Soft, plump, beautiful, just like in the best years.

— You could use a dog here to chase, right?

You place your fluffy paws on my feet. I give in and grab your body in my hands. I feel it. I feel your warmth.