Several years ago, we lived at home kitten. His name was Ginger. The kitten was a red-haired man, only tummy he had a little white. Most attracted his mustache - and long pushistenkie.
When he asked for there, then I began to meow a small voice. Stand Up demanded: "Meow" - and looks closely at his eyes. And then again: "Meow!"
After eat and drink some milk, a kitten loved to play with a ball of yarn. Quickly run up to me, touched foot to the glomerulus and hides under the table. Then he begins to peek out, flashing his blue eyes. And I pretend to not look at him. Then Ginger slowly begins to creep up to the glomerulus, thinking that it can not be seen. But it gave a ponytail, lifted her up. When he crept very close, sniffing a ball of his rosy nose. And I quietly pulling the strings, and a ball began to move. Kitten quickly ran away, knocking claws on the floor.
When we are tired of this game, I beckoned to her Ryzhik. He gladly resorted. I took him in my arms and began to stroke. A pretty kitten purring, pressed me his soft back and sweet sleep.
This story about a kitten, my daughter Alina wrote a couple of years ago. Another of her story can be read here.