This story was told to me by the owner of the cafe. This cat appeared in the cafeteria three years ago. We were then terrorized by mice that bred in the next room, where there was a warehouse of a company selling feed.
It was impossible to poison them, they ate at home, and ran to us just to indulge in pastries and crap them at the same time. He came himself, skinny, tattered, independent. He ate only what he would catch himself or what our cook Klaudia would give, not trusting anyone else. When trying to stroke, he used claws and teeth, for which he was named Sinister. I wanted to drive out this paranoid, but the cat left for one night presented a report on the work done in the form of three mouse corpses and two tails. I don’t like cats, but one cat is better than a regiment of mice. Then the warehouse managed to survive, squeezing out the premises for itself, but the cat remained. I got fed up, got sick, only Klaudia allowed himself to be stroked, and his only weakness was his love for red caviar. He took it from any hand and ate it slowly as if savoring it. Such is the abnormal cat.
We played a wedding in our cafe. The groom’s mother, a respectable intellectual, did everything to make the wedding respectable too. Respectable people, solid speeches, all by rank, there are not many young people. The young couple and the witnesses sat at a separate table. There were also a boy and a girl of about ten, dressed in page suits, wearing a bride’s train. And so I notice how our cat comes up to the girl and she takes him on her lap. Well, that’s it! Now Sinister will rip her off and there will be a scandal. I hurry to them and see how the girl feeds the cat with caviar straight from the spoon, and everyone sitting at the table is watching this with interest, not listening to the next speaker. The groom’s mother was drawn.
– Varya! Get the cat out of here immediately, he can’t sit here.
Tears swell in Varya’s eyes. The groom’s mother, trying to avoid the noise, gives out the first thing that comes to mind.
– He’s not a guest. Only guests can be at our table.
– Why is he not a guest?
– And he is without a gift, he will bring a gift …
The girl with a sigh lowers the cat to the floor. Here the first table ends, a break and dancing (as solid as everything else). The second table, time to give gifts. The parents of the groom are the first to give. Before my mother had time to give the young people a gift, the cat got out on the table and perched on a vase of caviar.
– Varya! Again?
– And he is a guest, he brought a gift. Here!
And the girl showed, lifting from the floor by the tail, a half-strangled mouse, still twitching its paws. The bride and the witness screamed in sync, sweeping away the cat and the vase with their doublet from the table. The witness choked on champagne and the groom intelligently expressed surprise.
– Well, Wow!
Mom dropped the gift. Daddy commented with his lips:
– The laptop is destroyed.
Maybe everything would have worked out, but the mouse that woke up at the wrong time did not find anything better than to hide from the cat on its mother. It was purple for him, he ate caviar. Mom broke down and spent the rest of the wedding in our backroom, with the valerian, through tears telling us how ungrateful everyone around was, especially the son who married the wrong one. And the wedding? What about a wedding? I went where it was more fun, they are not so boring, respectable people. Or maybe it was their cat that stirred it up?