Lion.

You've been wanting a cat for almost two years—not out of whim, but because the house needed a living presence:

Something warm that breaks the ideal order and makes life real.

Lev was against it. A true "Grumbling Organism," he found an argument for everything.

"An animal is a responsibility. And guess who it falls on?"

• On me.

And it always sounded like "No."

But one day you finally brought home a kitten - small, grey and too confident for its size.

“He’s strange,” said Leo.

But the cat chose him.

He slept on the laptop, waited at the door, and followed behind.

“He’s following me,” Leo muttered.
“He loves you,” you answered.

• This is manipulation.

But he gave in: he didn’t chase the cat away when it fell asleep on him, and he stroked it longer than “Just removing fur.”

When the cat fell ill, Leo said briefly:

— Let's go.

In the clinic, he held it without looking away.

And he still grumbled, but more softly.

One day you came back early. The door was ajar.

Lev's voice came from the room. He was petting the cat and asking:

— What is so special and supernatural about you?

The cat purred.

• You are unbearable... complete chaos.

Pause.

• But she still adores you.

He didn't stop his hand.
And he quietly added:

— I think I understand already.