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Everything in the house.
A sign that you have taken in another family - this is when you are taken to the grave of people you never knew.
Average cemetery. New monuments. Neat grave. Everything is as it should be, if not a "but." This is contrary to our traditions, but it was done at the call of the soul. In the family plot - a modest marble plaque: "Mark V.". Surnames no past years too, but well-kept grave, lawn grass grows.
Mark V. - a cat. But not the usual, but the one that saved her husband's relatives in the blockade. A relative of the husband told the following story.
"I do not remember why it was called Mark. His father was a local cat Vaska, and his mother - the neighbor's cat Murka. When the war began, Mark always ten minutes warning of bombings. If the cat starts throwing and run on the walls - a sure sign, will bomb. We put him in his bosom, and ran to the shelter, dragging the neighbors.
The bread we never ate whole, cherished, then to make crumbs. On the street they scattered the birds, and then arranged by Mark hunt. I do not eat - all in the house, all in the family. He was the only man and a real breadwinner.
I was very young, but I remember coming neighbors and sweep his nose, said:
- Oh! Yes you have the meat! Meat smells.
- What kind of meat, Karpovna? Mice! Mice cook. As you eat.
And also, as bourgeois - a bucket of water one unfortunate bird. Cook and divide by all honest and meat and broth.
Walking is one of Mark was not allowed - they were afraid of being caught and eaten. On the hunt went together. And together with the cat in his bosom, returned. That somewhere to seek - is dangerous, he always warned us, too. Clutching claws up - once everything is clear.
What was the cat! Thin, shabby, and for me more beautiful and sweeter it was not in the whole world. Me, a little cold in a warming and perhaps saved from starvation.
But all the bad comes to an end. Ended the blockade, then war. Mark died. I know that sin to bury animals in conventional cemeteries. But the mother said that this cat is more to her than all the people in the world, and he was buried in the family plot.
That's how it happens in life. Sometimes more expensive than any relative zverushka ».
Maybe I would not have thought of this story, but the son of the school were asked to make a report about the hero of the war.
- Mom, all write about their grandfathers or grandmothers. Can I write about Mark? He's also a hero.
And let's try - I said.
My family.
Average cemetery. New monuments. Neat grave. Everything is as it should be, if not a "but." This is contrary to our traditions, but it was done at the call of the soul. In the family plot - a modest marble plaque: "Mark V.". Surnames no past years too, but well-kept grave, lawn grass grows.
Mark V. - a cat. But not the usual, but the one that saved her husband's relatives in the blockade. A relative of the husband told the following story.
"I do not remember why it was called Mark. His father was a local cat Vaska, and his mother - the neighbor's cat Murka. When the war began, Mark always ten minutes warning of bombings. If the cat starts throwing and run on the walls - a sure sign, will bomb. We put him in his bosom, and ran to the shelter, dragging the neighbors.
The bread we never ate whole, cherished, then to make crumbs. On the street they scattered the birds, and then arranged by Mark hunt. I do not eat - all in the house, all in the family. He was the only man and a real breadwinner.
I was very young, but I remember coming neighbors and sweep his nose, said:
- Oh! Yes you have the meat! Meat smells.
- What kind of meat, Karpovna? Mice! Mice cook. As you eat.
And also, as bourgeois - a bucket of water one unfortunate bird. Cook and divide by all honest and meat and broth.
Walking is one of Mark was not allowed - they were afraid of being caught and eaten. On the hunt went together. And together with the cat in his bosom, returned. That somewhere to seek - is dangerous, he always warned us, too. Clutching claws up - once everything is clear.
What was the cat! Thin, shabby, and for me more beautiful and sweeter it was not in the whole world. Me, a little cold in a warming and perhaps saved from starvation.
But all the bad comes to an end. Ended the blockade, then war. Mark died. I know that sin to bury animals in conventional cemeteries. But the mother said that this cat is more to her than all the people in the world, and he was buried in the family plot.
That's how it happens in life. Sometimes more expensive than any relative zverushka ».
Maybe I would not have thought of this story, but the son of the school were asked to make a report about the hero of the war.
- Mom, all write about their grandfathers or grandmothers. Can I write about Mark? He's also a hero.
And let's try - I said.
My family.
