Tangerine

It so happened that the whole family had gone to a barbecue at my mother's dacha that day. My husband, having carefully bundled up our son, left, leaving me alone with my cat, Tangerine, and the chickenpox. It was so upsetting—there are simply no words.

I spent the whole day sniffling, upset with my husband. In the evening, I finally decided to get out of bed and watch a movie—I needed something to occupy myself with. I downloaded the French version of the musical "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" and, having made a bunch of sandwiches, settled down in front of the computer.

Twenty minutes later, I heard a strange creaking sound on the balcony, like a fork being scraped across a plate. Goosebumps ran down my spine. I went to the window and saw Tangerine freezing on the balcony. Naturally, I hurried out and took him away. But as I entered the room, I heard my beloved cat meowing in the kitchen. What was that in my arms then?! Looking down, I realized in horror that I was holding nothing...

Grabbing the cat, I ran to the bathroom. I tried to calm down, blaming it all on my overactive imagination. I called a friend and asked her to come over immediately. And then I heard someone scratching at the door with nails. The little mandarin bristled and snorted. I cried, covering my ears. It scratched for another five minutes—the most excruciating five minutes of my life. Then there was a sharp thud, and everything went quiet.

Soon my friend arrived. Choking with tears, I told her briefly what had happened. We searched the entire house together, but the second cat was still missing. But there were claw marks on the bathroom door. Clearly not a cat's.