Count

This story happened three years ago. We had a cat named Count; my older sister's parents gave him to us for her birthday. He lived with us for an unusually long time—18 and a half years, a year and a half older than me. Then, three years ago, in November, while my older sister was visiting (she was already living with her husband), Count started wheezing, choking, and retreating to the far corner of the room. We all rushed to his aid—who knows, maybe he was choking on something. But he could barely walk and kept moving away from us. Before that, he'd come up to everyone for no apparent reason, rubbing against them, as if saying goodbye. Well, it became clear—the cat was going to die. We couldn't bear to look at him; it hurt so much, it brought tears to our eyes. After all, he was almost like a member of the family. My sister and I cried for a long time. The next day, we buried Count.

A few days later, I was sitting alone in my room. My parents hadn't come home from work yet, and it was already dark outside. The light was only on in my room, and our apartment was big. So I was sitting there and heard a sound like a cat running across the linoleum. I was shocked—the cat had died! I rushed into the other rooms, turned on the lights, looked everywhere—no one was there. Okay, I thought, maybe I imagined it. I turned off the light and went back to my room. Five minutes passed, and then I heard the same sound again. I ran to look again—and still no one was there. This time, I didn't turn off the light in the apartment. I got scared, so I stayed in the main room and turned on the TV. I didn't hear such sounds anymore that evening. Only a day later, my dad quietly told me that when he came home for lunch that afternoon, he also heard a sound like a cat running around the apartment. By then, I had already decided that I was just imagining things, and my dad's words left me in shock...