Musia the cat, mice and cat massage. A short story about the bond between a cat and a soldier of the Armed Forces of Ukraine

YAROSLAV HALAS – FRIDAY, 6 JANUARY 2023

Constant changes in the deployment of combat units of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, redeployment from one frontline to another, losses among comrades-in-arms, and a lack of communication and normal living conditions create a mostly gloomy, black-and-white picture of the current war in the eyes of its direct participants.

However, occasional rays of light and warmth appear in this picture. And in places where you would least expect them.

An example of this is a short story about the bond between a former pet cat and a soldier of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, who were brought together by the war in an abandoned house in the middle of the Donetsk steppe.

Our premises turned out to be a "mouse kingdom" invaded by the military

The new location to which our unit of the 128th Mountain Assault Zakarpattia Brigade was deployed was 250 kilometres from the previous one. We travelled most of the way by train, and the rest by flatbed KrAZ truck.

The destination was an abandoned railway building on the steppe of Donetsk Oblast. The first group of guys moved in, covering the broken windows with tape and installing stoves. When we newcomers arrived, it was agreed that we would live in an old house formerly occupied by railway personnel. No one had lived in the house for a long time, and a few months ago it had been slightly damaged from the inside by fire. But the main thing is that there were windows, electricity, and a tiled stove!

Yaroslav Halas, an officer of the 128th Mountain Assault Zakarpattia Brigade

When we got there, night had already fallen. So, we just opened up the house and said: "Spend the night here, you can sort everything out in the morning". We did not risk lighting the stove without checking it first, so we decided to spend the night with no heat. I got a separate room, where among a bunch of other junk there was an old Soviet bed with a metal mesh mattress (such mattresses are often used to sift sand on construction sites).

It was 7 degrees below zero in the evening, and at night the temperature dropped to -10° C. The long-unheated house was completely frozen; it was very cold , but still better than on the open steppe with piercing wind.

I unfolded my rubberised mattress on the bed, spread my sleeping bag, and threw a thick cotton blanket on top, which I usually put under the mattress. I went to bed wearing thermal underwear, my military uniform and a hat (I would not take this hat off for almost two days until the house warmed up properly). And I pulled a warm fleece scarf over my nose so that it was not so cold to breathe.

I hoped that I would fall asleep quickly, given how tired I was, but as soon as I started to doze off, I heard rustling all over the room. I turned on the flashlight and saw that the room was full of mice! This house was a "mouse kingdom" that had just been invaded by the military. The mice were not afraid of the light or of me: they were at home and behaved accordingly.

I almost didn't care, I wasn't afraid of mice and wasn't too disgusted, so I still hoped to get some sleep, even though from time to time they ran across my cotton blanket. That night I got out of bed only once – when a mouse jumped on my head out of carelessness or impudence. Then I got up and moved a cardboard box with some food from the floor to the table. And then I went back to bed and paid no attention to anything.

In the morning, it turned out that the mice got into the box and gnawed my supplies – chocolate, cookies, vacuum bags with ground coffee. The worst thing is that it was impossible to buy any of these things there.

The mice continued to rule the house, just not as boldly as at night. They ran around the room, barely hiding. The guys and I made a fire in the stove, started to take out some trash and at the same time thought about how to get rid of these harmful rodents, which would definitely not leave us or our food alone.

And after dinner, as if in response to our wishes, a cat appeared. An ordinary moggie, white-grey but with blue eyes. And apparently in the initial stage of pregnancy.

The cat had definitely lived in this house before - it was obvious from the way she bravely went inside and immediately started hunting. In the first few minutes, she caught three mice in one room, and then several more in others. The remaining inhabitants of the "mouse kingdom" suddenly hid and did not show themselves.

 Later, a cat appeared in the house. An ordinary moggie, white-grey but with blue eyes

By the evening, the house had grown a little warmer. We spread out our possessions and brought in our camp beds. And of all the eight beds, the cat for some reason chose mine. Between hunts, she jumped out on it, curled up and dozed off. When I walked into the room, she would raise her head, look at me with her blue eyes, then drop back down onto her paws and doze.

Because of the fire that had damaged the house, the door frames were crooked and large cracks formed below. The kitty squeezed through such a crack into my room whenever she wanted. And when I turned off the light and went to bed, she would jump up onto the bed, quietly make her way to my head, sit down next to me and begin to purr loudly.

At first I moved it closer to my feet, but then I gave up. Sometimes the cat would climb on my back, extend its claws and start doing a "cat massage" - kneading me with its paws. And a minute or two later, she curled up and fell asleep. I'm a very light sleeper, so I could hear as she suddenly jumped out of bed in the middle of the night to catch another mouse that dared to show up in the room. In two days, the mice were no longer bothering us at all!

The cat continued to come into the house freely in the middle of the day, inspect the rooms, and then squeeze through the crack into my bed and doze. At night she gave me a "cat massage", made her way to my head, purred loudly and fell asleep. She didn't even need to be stroked for her to growl...

This went on for five days. Then, at six in the evening, the order came - the next morning we would move on to a new place of deployment. It's an old army pattern - you're transferred somewhere else as soon as you got used to one spot.

That evening, the cat suddenly disappeared: it simply no longer came to the house. I asked the other guys, but nobody had seen her. At night, I went outside three times with a flashlight and called her - all in vain. I really wanted to say goodbye to her, and I remembered that I never even took a picture of her. But the cat was nowhere to be found, so I fell asleep that night without her purring.

In the morning, while we were packing and loading, I tried several more times to find her. In vain. I was beginning to think that I would have to leave without saying goodbye, but I was lucky. Just before I left, the landlady arrived, and when I asked about the cat, she climbed up the ladder to the attic without saying a word and called out loudly: "Here, kitty kitty!" And the cat went to her, and then to me.

 The name of the cat is Musia, she is 12 years old

So, half an hour before leaving, I found out that the cat's name is Musia, and she is 12 years old. Of course, I took a photo of her as a souvenir and explained that I had to go somewhere else. Although she understood that we were leaving the day before, she left us earlier.

Pets have feelings and understanding that we cannot yet explain scientifically. And some of them are also in the habit of ‘taking a French leave’! Musia allowed herself to be petted in farewell and even rubbed and purred at me at the end. Maybe she understood that if I left without saying goodbye, I wouldn't feel comfortable. Good, smart cat...

At the new deployment site, there are no mice, but I really miss her purring.

Yaroslav Halas, an officer of the 128th Mountain Assault Zakarpattia Brigade, written specially for Ukrainska Pravda. Life. Author's photo

Translation by: Artem Yakymyshyn, Liudmyla Lesiv

Editor: Monica Sandor