If you liked the story, I am very pleased ... If not, then maybe you will like the following story about the cat Moo-Moo, who I personally knew.

Moo-Moo
One spring a ginger cat called Mouryaka had three kittens. Anna Ivanovna, a pensioner and a former teacher of elementary grades who feed all the cats of our yard,gave them different names. The first one, a gray, fluffy kitten with blue eyes was named Kyss; the second, red like his mom, with a sharp muzzle, green-eyed, long-necked and thin-legged, was called Foxy, and the third one, black with big eyes and a white speck on his forehead got the name of Moo-Moo.

Anna Ivanovna saw Mouryaka with the kittens a month after her stay in the basement where she gave birth to and fed them, hiding them from everyone. Mouryaka came out thin, with sticking together hair and a mangy tail but looking proud. Three completely different kittens were jumping behind her, stepping on each other’s feet and overtaking each other. Mouryaka called them differently, too. When she wanted to give them a caught mouse she called Kyss and Foxy with “purrur-r-rr-meow", but the las, one, the black with a speck on his forehead kitten, with “moo-oo-oo-meow”. Moreover, she pulled the “moo-oo-oo ” part so long, and the “meow” so short that it was impossible not to notice. After the teacher all in the yard started calling the last kitten Moo-Moo. Even then Anna Ivanovna realized that Mouryaka distinguished Moo-Moo though she loved all of them equally, and thought that it ought to be a special kitten. So it was...
Two weeks later, Lena from the fourth floor took the beautiful Kyss; the Petrovs took Foxy to the village where later he became an expert in catching mice and rats. But Moo-Moo stayed with Mouryaka.
A year passed. Moo-Moo grew up, became strong, and turned into a beautiful black cat with a big white spot on his forehead and slightly bulging brownish-green eyes. Mouryaka no longer considered him her son, and became to arch her back and to hiss at him like at any adult cat. Moo-Moo realized that he grew up and went to live on his own. He was always fed by the efforts of compassionate Anna Ivanovna, and also because the basement was always full of mice.
Every morning he went around his territory, now, dropping on his front paws and sniffing the exciting for him smells, then he crept along the fence, then jumped up and doing a pirouette in the air tried to catch a bird. Sometimes he would lie for hours in a nettle thicket, moving his tail and watching the flies. In winter, he usually sat on a bench, squinting at the cold winter sun and shaking snowflakes off his face vigorously shaking his head. It was evident that he was happy and satisfied with his life.
Anna Ivanovna, too, often sat on a bench in the garden. While she knitted socks or a sweater for her grandson, or mended his pants for sliding an ice mountain, or else embroidered napkins, and exchanged the news with the street cleaner, she had a good opportunity to observe Moo-Moo. It must be said that the woman was a good observant. First, she noticed that the cat was not just sitting and thinking about his affairs, but he was estimating the people approaching the entrance. He was indifferent to most of them, as they passed by or approached the bench where Moo-Moo was lying for a chat with Anna Ivanovna. But seeing some of her “good acquaintances” Moo-Moo started wagging his tail from side to side. In dogs it meant joy; however, in cats, on the contrary, it was a sign that a cat felt an explicit or implicit aggression, and was ready for defense and offence. It was nothing special if she didn’t know those persons much, they were not very close friends or buddies. But when Moo-Moo started wagging his tail in such a manner when her best friend approached her to remind about her invitation for an afternoon tea, Anna Ivanovna plunged in thought.
After all, Moo-Moo, from her point of view, was never wrong. She remembered how well he met Slava from the third floor, the richest guy in their building who drove up in a silver Dodge. He bought a two- and a three-bedroom apartment located next to each other, and made one large five-room apartment combining those two. Nobody liked him in the beginning. People were be a bit afraid of him, envied him and kept their distance. Only Moo-Moo jumped off the bench and ran to his feet, wiping his muzzle off his pants, purring like a transformer, and vibrating with pleasure from nose to tail.
Oddly enough, that big, broad-shouldered man who looked like a bear always found a minute for Moo-Moo. He would pick the cat up into his arms, talk to him about something, and then lift him onto a small ledge under the canopy entrance. They obviously understood each other. No one had ever guessed before that the cat liked that ledge from which he could see all in safety. Then Granddad Stepan from the twelfth floor, whose son worked in the tax office, informed the neighbors that Slava was fully sponsoring Children's Home and regularly ordered hot lunches for the homeless on Sundays. He gave money to Timofeevna whose son needed a complex eye operation. He did many other things in ten years; some of them were fading from Anna Ivanovna’s memory. So when somebody wanted to “clean out” his apartment the thieves were caught red-handed. The watchful grannies sitting on the bench and the neighbors who saw a lorry that was being filled with the things from Apartment 20 by some smart guys, quickly realized that Slava would not have moved to a different place without having thrown a party for the whole house.
Ten minutes later, the smart guys that were taking things out were surprised by a police patrol, and twenty minutes later, Slava appeared who apparently recognized some of the “truck loaders” because his face expression changed quite a bit. All in all, everything ended well, apart from Slava’s moral shock as one of the “loaders” happened to be his old friend. Somebody poured a shot for Slava, and all told him that God kept him, that everyone in the house, especially Moo-Moo, would go for him through fire and water, and as for such “friends”, well, everyone came across that kind of people at least once in one’s life... At that, Slava felt relieved.
Anna Ivanovna remembered another man whom Moo-Moo adored, too. It was Kondraty Vasilyevich, an old retired colonel who took to drinking. A long time ago he was neat-handed; all the figures on the playground with spinning drums and slides were carved out and built by him. After the death of his daughter he started drinking heavily. When he was sober he sat on a bench with a vacant look in cold gray eyes. Moo-Moo felt his anguish. He would jump on his knees and lick his hand with his shaggy tongue: the notch between the thumb and forefinger on the back of his hand. The old man’s heart felt warmer. Also, while sitting on his lap, Moo-Moo sometimes suddenly turned around, sat opposite him and looked him straight in the eye, bringing his muzzle forward, then moving it away. While doing it, he funnily twitched his ears and moved his long white whiskers. What was he seeing inside Kondraty Vasilyevich? Who would know? But it was impossible to watch that show without laughing. The whole yard was laughing, saying that the old man must have a treasure hidden inside. Laugh or not, it was so indeed. Each person’s life with its ups and downs, hopes and disappointments, love and hate, victories and setbacks, the invaluable experience that a person acquires walking on the difficult path called LIFE, is the real treasure of wisdom. The impression was that the cat “saw” the memories and the thoughts of Kondraty Vasilyevich as if he were watching a movie. After a while, the cat had cured the old man. He stopped drinking, after all.
He used to say: “If there is a single soul in the world that cares about and has an interest in me, then I have something to live for. I must show more “movies” to the cat, and make new thoughts and memories.”
Moo-Moo disliked Zinaida Kuzminichna from the tenth floor. Truth be told, the cat was right. She was a mean old woman: resentful, angry, always displeased, be it about the prices in a shop, or the snow, then the wind, then the government, and even more so when it came to ordinary people. She would have a thought about anyone who passed by, and, naturally, a nasty thought. She would see only the bad in people, and the good was as if filtered by her through a sieve. Moo-Moo went a long way around her, and when she was in the yard or sitting on the bench, he would go away to attend to “his business.” Zinaida Kuzminichna was suffering a grave hypertension. Sometimes an ambulance had to come to her twice a day. Once, during a bad patch of that kind in her life Zinaida Kuzminichna walked out into the yard with a headache, moaning, groaning, cursing the whole world, and especially “the cats that were plaguing her life and got under her feet.”
Moo-Moo was going to leave but he suddenly changed his mind. When Zinaida Kuzminichna located her bulk on the bench, Anna Ivanovna was surprised to see that Moo-Moo first jumped onto the seat, then on the bench back, and then settled on the shoulder behind the right ear of Zinaida Kuzminichna. Before she knew, he was licking “a bone behind the ear.” In the “patient’s” own words, at first she felt very uncomfortable similar to needle pricking sensations. She felt that the cat had thorns in his tongue. Then warmth spread all over the head, and she felt slight dizziness. Then, the way she described it, as if “a red-hot lightning struck her head” — such a pain pierced her from the ear to her left foot. And then the headache disappeared, and the ambulance didn’t come to the entrance for good six months. For all the six months Zinaida Kuzminichna was talking in the yard about the wonder worked by Moo-Moo. She was in a good mood. She admired cats, dogs, rain, sun, and was grateful to everyone.
Then, having got used to health and happiness, she returned to her old hobby: gossip, tattle, slander, criticism. Then hypertension was back. Apparently, not everyone is able to use the opportunity that fate had given them. Apparently, it is not that easy to see evil in oneself and to reject it.
After the incident Moo-Moo became famous. Grannies from neighboring houses sought him out, kids from School No. 361asked for him, wives of alcoholics came and asked: “Where's your magic cat?.” But most of the time Moo-Moo would hide somewhere in wait. Somehow he chose whom to help and whom not to.
Sometimes he had strange reactions to cars. For example, when the ambulance for Zinaida Kuzminichna came with a completely different team, Moo-Moo paid no heed. But as soon as an ambulance came to Adelaide Stepanovna from the eighth floor, a lonely pensioner in a rather good health as it seemed to Anna Ivanovna, something frightening happened to the cat. He jumped off the bench where he contentedly lied a moment ago, arched his back, growled and hissed at the man with a case that passed by them towards the door. All the time while the man with the case, apparently the doctor, was in the apartment, the cat walked nervously around the entrance. Then Anna Ivanovna saw that he was leading Adelaide Stepanovna out of the doorway arm in arm. At that, she looked quite cheerful and seemed to be pleasantly surprised by the attention. Moo-Moo rushed under her feet, not letting her pass. She paused, patted the cat on the nape and before getting into the ambulance explained to the surprised Anna Ivanovna that she was going for a check and some tests. Anna Ivanovna remembered the street-cleaner’s story that Adelaide Kuzminichna signed a contract with “Garant” company because of her small pension which was not enough to live. The firm undertook to pay all the bills for the apartment, to provide her with a considerable amount of money, to arrange the  medical care, to deliver foodstuffs in case of an illness until her very death. But after her death the apartment of Adelaide Kuzminichna passed to the company. That was the essence of the contract.
When the ambulance that looked so new and shiny with such a solid, credible doctor in a starched white hospital gown, with a neatly trimmed beard, wearing glasses that looked antique drove away from the house, Anna Ivanovna remembered those old, dirty, scratched ambulance cars that came to everyone else. The faces of doctors and nurses tired of other people's misery with dark circles under their eyes from sleepless nights, their crumpled in frequent visit gowns surfaced in her memory. She recalled the bitter words of a driver who was always in a hurry, but not even his own colleagues let his ambulance pass on the road; not even with the siren and blue beacon on. Then she realized what was worrying her apart from the nervous cat that obviously felt and knew something. That successful doctor in his new car didn’t seem real. In the evening, Anna Ivanovna went up to the eighth floor and rang the doorbell of the old pensioner’s apartment. Nobody opened. However, in the morning a man from the housing department came with a company representative and a district police officer, and began to force the lock.
When she asked: “Where is Adelaide Kuzminichna?” she was told that she died that night in the hospital, and from then on the apartment belonged to the contract firm. Her comment that Adelaide Kuzminichna was healthy got a reply that hardly anyone of 70 years was healthy, and that some died much earlier. And if she did not believe then they could show her the pathologist’s conclusion on the acute cardiovascular failure. She cried all day with despair, fear and inability to change anything. The depth of the fall of those men, the cynicism and the scale of the operation with lonely pensioners that they were probably getting away with for a long time shocked Anna Ivanovna very much. She felt better only after she went to a church and lit a candle for the peace of Adelaide Stepanovna’s soul.
Since then she was watching Moo-Moo who was able to see a human soul as well as the surrounding world of objects, people and animals even more closely...
Therefore, she did not go to the afternoon tea to her friend’s and, as it turned out, she was right.
But that would be yet another story which she promised to tell me next time, because her grandson was calling her home for supper. Anna Ivanovna told me all those stories about Moo-Moo herself when one day I left the keys at home and was waiting on the bench for my mother to come from work. The hero of the stories lied in my lap like a fluffy humming ball. I grew up. Moo-Moo became very old. It’s been already a year since Anna Ivanovna passed away. But even now, when I bring new people into the house, I always try to call Moo-Moo. Though he is almost blind with age, but he is as good as always in reading human hearts.
If you want to know the truth about yourself, come to our yard. Ask for Moo-Moo. Everyone knows him.