It was an ordinary evening and I was on my way home. It was already getting dark, and by the garden next door I noticed a little face peeping out of the bushes. White with ginger patches, her eyes a little wary but very attentive. She looked at me as if she was waiting for me to come closer. I don't know why, but I did. She didn't run away; she just sat down, as if to say: "There you are. I'm yours."
At first I thought she might have an owner. For several days I went back to the same spot and looked for posters or for anyone searching for her. No one. And she kept sitting in the bushes, as if she was waiting just for me. In the end I took a box and a blanket and carried her home. That's how Milka came into my life. Why Milka? Because she is white, soft and warm like milk, and her patches are ginger like caramel.
At first she was cautious. She explored the flat, sniffed everything and hid under the sofa whenever I got up from my chair. But after a few weeks she began to trust me. Now she has her own little sofa by the window, where she likes to sit and look outside. Sometimes I think she is watching everyone and secretly running the world.
We often walk around the garden together. She isn't one of those cats that dash about like the wind. Milka walks slowly and carefully, sniffs every bush and stops when she hears birds. Sometimes she lies down right in the grass and just listens. At those moments I like to sit next to her, because it's as if she is teaching me to slow down and enjoy the little things.
She has some funny habits too. If I sit at the computer for too long, she comes and lies right on the keyboard and looks me in the eye, as if to say "enough work, let's talk". And another one: the moment I open the linen cupboard, she's inside, curled up in a ball, and you can't get her out.
She also loves watching what I do. When I cook, she sits on the chair next to me. When I wash up, she sits on the windowsill and watches. When I read, she lies down so that all I can see is her, not the book.
In our time together I've realised that Milka is not just a cat. She can sense my mood. When I'm sad, she quietly lies down beside me and simply breathes in time with me. When I'm happy, she runs around the flat as if she's happy with me.
I found her by chance. Or maybe she found me. And since that day I haven't regretted it once. Because now, when I come home, I know that behind the door a small, fluffy bundle is waiting for me, making my life warmer and brighter.
