Prose - Vera Pavlova. A foreign place.

                                              Vera Pavlova
                          Alien place

  The cat sat on the window and saw me off with a long, thoughtful
gaze.  I really wanted to turn around and take one last look
an old house with a shabby green roof, saying goodbye to the creaky,
a dilapidated porch, with a garden that had shed its leaves.
  I really wanted to turn around, parting with the dacha until the next
summer.  But I knew I wouldn't do it. No matter what I say goodbye to,
my gaze will be directed at the gray creature behind the glass.
  And I won't do it.
  I love all cats.
  I was always sure of this. But it turns out that it’s still against the rules
There are exceptions.
  On the first day, after jumping off the train, running a few
dozens of steps, joyfully slamming the door, notifying the whole
house, I stepped onto the veranda. And the first creature that met me,
there was a cat.  New cat. At first I felt only joy, resentment
came later when she was called with the same intonation as
Murzik, when they petted him and called him the best in the world, and when I
I received an answer to my question: is she really better than Murzik?
  I didn't cry when he passed away. But that night...
  Walking down the alley, I know that this cat is not to blame for anything.
  But I also know that she took someone else’s place. Too fast
She occupied him in the hearts of his parents and brother. And maybe even
be...
  VeryI wanted to turn around and look. But I didn't do it.