On the highway, where the road narrows sharply and becomes two narrow lanes, the forest comes right up to you—just a few meters away. That’s where traffic jams always build: cars form a long line and slowly crawl forward.
It was there, at the edge of the asphalt, that he sat. Apparently, they’d dumped him right there. He wasn’t waiting for anyone anymore. And who would he wait for? Once they’ve betrayed you, they’ll never come back. No one will come, pick you up, hold you close, or run their hand over your head.
A large, gray, skinny cat had settled right on the edge of the road. Behind him was a meter of earth, then a shallow ditch where all the trash usually rolled. Beyond the ditch were bushes, trees, and the dark edge of the forest.
His left eye was closed: either it had been lost in a fight, or the inflammation prevented him from opening it. But hardly anyone cared. And yet, the cat turned out to be clever. He’d learned to beg: he’d stand on his hind legs and stretch out his front paws, as if waving at passersby and drivers, begging for a piece of food.
Contents
A Chance Encounter
Thunderstorm and Remorse
The Search
Joy and Recognition
The Road Home
A Chance Encounter
Sometimes someone would throw him a cutlet, a fish, or a piece of chicken. That day, an old Subaru pulled up in front of him. Inside was a family: a father, mother, and a freshman daughter. They lived nearby, just a half-hour drive down the highway.
The cat, as usual, rose and stretched his paws toward the window. The girl saw him: his skinny side, his tattered fur, his dull eye. But most of all, it was his gaze that struck her. A gaze full of hopelessness and doom.
“Mom, look!” she cried. “The poor thing is going to die here!” Let’s take him, please. Nobody wants him.
“Oh, no!” the mother replied irritably. “You have school to attend to, not sick cats. Forget it!”
“What happened?” the father asked from behind the wheel.
“Nothing,” the mother waved her hand dismissively. “He’s just an ordinary cat. Don’t get distracted, we have to go. Look, the sky is clouding over—it’s going to rain. Hit the gas.”
The car sped off. The cat remained there, his paw stretched out toward the window, which never opened.
Storm and Remorse
They arrived home just in time—a thunderstorm had broken out outside. Rain lashed the windows, thunder rumbled, lightning flashed. The house was warm and cozy. But before the daughter’s eyes stood the gray cat, stretched out on his hind legs. Alone, helpless, unwanted.
She couldn’t resist and said, “I need the car keys.”
“Are you crazy?” the mother exclaimed. “Where are we going in this downpour?”
“To get him,” the daughter replied firmly. “To get that cat we abandoned.”
The father dropped his spoon in the soup.
“The cat? The one-eyed one? Did he ask for food? And we left him there?” He jumped up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“But I was thinking about my daughter!” the mother defended herself. “So she wouldn’t be distracted from her studies.”
“What studies?!” the father shouted. “We drove past a dying animal!”
The mother waved her hand in despair, “Do whatever you want! But I’m not going anywhere!”
But the father was already getting up, and the daughter was pulling on her jacket. And they walked off into the storm.
Search
The old Subaru screeched and flew down the highway. The rain poured down in sheets, lightning cutting through the sky. The turnoff was empty; the cars had already passed. The father stopped the car and got out, not putting on his raincoat. He held a stick to steady himself on the slippery slope.
He carefully began the descent toward the ditch filled with rainwater. The former trumpeter’s ear caught a faint, alien sound amid the roar of the rain. Dissonance. But it was precisely this sound that pointed the way.
The father slipped and fell into the ditch filled with water. The mother and daughter screamed and ran from the car. Passersby joined them—some threw ropes, others shouted for help. But the man stood up, picked up his stick, and continued on—waist-deep in icy water, toward the forest.
Finally, he bent under a snag and pulled out a gray lump. A cat. The crowd gasped, and he, holding it above his head, slowly made his way back to the road. The rope stretched overhead helped them out.
Joy and Recognition
Everyone around them rejoiced. The mother and daughter hugged the man, unable to take the soaking wet cat from him. The girl held it to her chest, and it began to purr, shivering.
The driver of the expensive SUV pulled out a bottle of whiskey:
“Guys, I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. I think it’s finally here. But let’s not drink it. Let the women drink, and we’ll clink glasses and pour it out—in honor of this madman and his deed.”
And the men standing in the rain did indeed pour the whiskey onto the wet asphalt.
The Road Home
Soon, the Subaru was speeding back. The mother was behind the wheel, the father in the passenger seat, limping slightly but smiling. The girl in the backseat was holding the rescued cat. He rumbled loudly, as if a small tractor were rumbling in his chest.
“He’s so loud,” said the mother.
“That’s his heart tractor,” smiled the daughter.
“And our father is a hero, a real one,” the mother admitted.
“I always knew it,” whispered the daughter, kissing his neck.
Outside, the leaden sky continued to weep. Traces of spilled whiskey spread across the wet asphalt. But one soul was saved. The little soul of a gray cat.
