That evening began quietly. I was folding laundry when suddenly Lili’s voice rang out from the living room: — Mom! She has something in her mouth again! — Who? — I froze mid-step. — Marsa!

A puppy! Another one! I ran to the window and couldn’t believe my eyes: my tabby cat was walking across the yard, carrying a tiny black bundle in her teeth. In the corner of the room, in a woven basket, already lay four just like it — tiny, their eyes tightly shut, with warm, velvety sides.

Marsa carefully placed the new one next to them, gently licked it, and curled herself around them as if protecting them from the whole world. I couldn’t understand: where was she finding these puppies? And why was she bringing them one by one?

During the day, there was a loud knock at the door — so loud that the glass in the frame rattled. I froze, and Lili clung to my hand as if sensing something bad.

I opened the door — there stood a policeman and Mrs. Miller, our neighbor, known for noticing everything and everyone. Her face was darker than a storm cloud. — Do you have a cat? — the officer asked without wasting time on greetings. — Yes… — I nodded cautiously. — What happened? He held my gaze for a long moment, studying me, then quietly said: — In that case… you’d better sit down.

I didn’t yet know what I was about to hear, but a cold shiver ran down my spine, and my heart skipped a beat. I sat down mechanically on the edge of the sofa, feeling the cold mug of tea chilling my fingers. Lili pressed close to me, and Marsa, as if she understood the conversation was about her, slowly came out of the kitchen and sat directly in front of the policeman, staring at him with her green, unblinking eyes. — This morning — he began — a… deserted doghouse was found in the neighboring yard.