She would either whine or emit a muffled growl, and upon hearing the half-suppressed, husky "meow" in response, she would glance at her owners with barely noticeable curiosity, as if relearning, wagging the stump of her tail...
Yaska was in a state of despondency. She would rest her heavy head on her outstretched paws, fix her gaze on a single point, and remain motionless. Hours passed, then days... Ten.
Letting out a sorrowful sigh, as if on the brink of tears, she would close her eyes for a moment before starting the cycle anew... Her gaze vacant, indifferent to her surroundings.
Lena and Artem, Yaska's devoted owners, spared no effort to alleviate her melancholy. Conversations, embraces, and even consultations with a dog psychologist were sought multiple times.
When all failed, they resorted to extreme measures - introducing a young puppy from another dog to their grieving Rottweiler.
However, the puppy was unable to fill the void left by Yaska's own offspring, lost to illness in their infancy. He could not provide the solace she desperately needed.
Despite his attempts to engage her, nuzzling his tiny wet nose into her dark, lean side and whining pitifully, Yaska remained impassive, as if a statue unmoved by his efforts. Helpless...
Eventually, realizing he could not stir her heartache, the puppy was reluctantly returned to his original home, leaving Yaska to wallow further in grief.
Artem and Lena, who previously took Yaska on long walks, now had to coax her out for mere five minutes. Struggling to get her to move, they would attach a leash to her collar, watching as she walked mechanically, shifting her weight slowly from paw to paw.
In the yard, she would move only a few meters away from the entrance, carrying out her business before quickly returning to her bed, where the lingering scent of her puppies remained. There, she would lay still, unwilling to venture beyond.
Initially considering discarding the bed after the loss of Yaska's last offspring, Lena was deterred by Yaska's vehement protests. Without any alternatives, the bed remained, a constant reminder of past happiness.
A sense of impending loss lingered in the air as they grappled with their helplessness, unable to find a solution to Yaska's sorrow.
Meanwhile, winter asserted its dominance outside. Bright, vibrant autumn hues were concealed beneath the blanket of white snow descending from the heavens. Evergreens stood juxtaposed against bare birch trees, their branches timidly shielding themselves from the elements.
A tireless artist transformed park benches and pathways, once adorned with yellow-brown leaves trampled underfoot, into a canvas of white.
That winter, Yaska embraced and awaited eagerly.
Bounding out of the doorway like a lightning bolt, she leaped into a snowdrift with a joyful abandon, her hind legs stretching almost up to her head before plopping her heavy frame down. A symphony of snorts, barks, and slobbery kisses ensued as she beamed with delight, her infectious smile flooding from her lively eyes down to her frozen nose, perched above her curled upper lip, and rippling through her chocolatey fur to her stubby tail wagging enthusiastically.
Artem and Lena could not contain their laughter, collapsing beside each other and enveloping the snow-covered dog in a warm embrace. These moments of sheer joy and Yaska's exuberance were etched into their memories, serving as a cherished reminder of her happiness.
Yet, that was all in the past.
The arrival of winter went unnoticed by Yaska, a season that held no significance for the aging dog. Neither the frosty traceries on the window panes nor the inviting snowdrifts could stir her heart, as she remained almost motionless.
As February set in, Yaska's condition deteriorated rapidly. Refusing food and with sorrowful eyes, Lena bid farewell to the familiar dog doctor at the front door, her white-knuckled fists betraying the tension within as time seemed to slip away.
Suppressing a desperate cry welling up inside her, Lena found solace in a silent embrace with Artyom, the weight of impending loss heavy upon them. Acceptance was elusive, releasing Yaska felt like an insurmountable task.
Seeking refuge from the turmoil within her, Lena dashed out into the chilled evening, the darkness enveloping her and cooling her emotions.
Facing the indifferent stars sprinkled across the black canvas above, she didn't scream but instead whimpered, echoing Yaska's despair from the loss of her puppies. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she mourned in solitude.
When numbness overtook her soul, leaving behind a lifeless void, Lena turned to retreat, only to pause abruptly after a few steps.
Upon closer inspection, she realized that the old, worn door mat she hurriedly stepped over was not what she thought. Despite this revelation, she couldn't help but utter a cry.
After a moment of stunned silence, she burst into the apartment, finding Artyom restlessly pacing the kitchen.
The doctor returned for a second visit, his expression mirroring sympathy as he examined the cat now laid out on the table covered with a terry cloth, his furrowed brows betraying the gravity of the situation. The couple, on the brink of losing their cherished pet, watched with a mix of desperation and hopelessness as their beloved dog was replaced by the ailing young gray cat, who appeared more like a worn-out doormat in its dire condition.The delicate hopes of stabilizing the cat teetered precariously, akin to fragile moth wings that could shatter at the slightest touch, evident under the glow of a streetlamp. As the inevitable decision loomed heavily in the room, the translucent syringe filled with a pinkish liquid, intended to end suffering, symbolized the harsh reality of halting still-beating hearts with its lethal dose.
Before the lethal injection could be administered, a feeble yet unmistakable murmur pierced the heavy silence of the room. Eyes widened in disbelief as Yaska, previously motionless in the doorframe, gradually made her way toward the table on unsteady legs, her ragged breaths filling the room.
With a determined effort, Yaska leaned her head towards the table, where the seemingly lifeless gray cat lay, buried under the warmth of the towel. She emitted a soft whimper or perhaps a subdued growl, receiving a faint "meow" in response from the cat. Her owners, the doctor frozen in place with the syringe, watched in disbelief as Yaska wagged her tail slightly, a glimmer of life rekindling within her.
The injection was a necessary step, albeit a somber one. The anti-inflammatory medication, IV drips, and subsequent pills administered to both Yaska and the newly named cat, Kompot, demanded dedicated care and attention. Rotating shifts to tend to their needs, the couple embarked on a journey of round-the-clock treatments prescribed by the doctor, with Yaska stoically enduring each procedure. As Kompot settled into Yaska's protective embrace, the once apprehensive cat soon found solace in the warmth of their bond, relinquishing his initial protests to acceptance in the face of compassion.
By the time summer arrived, both Yaska and Compote had undergone remarkable transformations.
Yaska, now gleaming with a rich chocolate hue adorned by vibrant tan accents, exuded an air of elegance reminiscent of a post-salon glow. Her sinewy muscles rippled under her coat, prompting onlookers to yield the sidewalk in awe of her presence.
A pair of troublesome youths from Lena and Artem's building had a change of heart after meeting Yaska's discerning gaze, opting for a more respectable path in a surprising turn of events.
On the other hand, Compote had blossomed into a different feline altogether. His once lackluster gray fur had evolved into a lustrous silver coat that exuded nobility, akin to silk or satin that caresses the palm. He no longer resembled a doormat, but rather an epitome of elegance and grace.
Lena and Artem found themselves overjoyed with the newfound vitality of both pets.
Replacing Yaska's old worn-out couch, they acquired a vibrant new piece, a large yellow sofa that radiated warmth by the window, seemingly filling the space with a comforting glow that reignited their mended hearts.
Together, the dog and cat shared peaceful slumbers on the new furniture, intertwining paws in a delicate dance of camaraderie, forging a bond that transcended their tumultuous past and made them inseparable companions.
Despite external appearances suggesting harmony and contentment, a nagging sense of unease lingered. Lena eventually noticed the absence of Yaska's once radiant smile, leading her and Artem to grapple with the challenge of restoring the lost joy, a task even Compote, who held a special place in Yaska's heart, couldn't resolve.
While in the park, Lena was suddenly overcome by dizziness and a wave of discomfort.As Artem looked on with concern, Lena's erratic breathing signaled distress, exacerbated by the damp, autumnal air permeated with the scent of decaying leaves and fallen apples.
With Kompote peeking out from Artem's backpack and issuing a curious meow, Yaska appeared, rushing towards the couple with a stick in her mouth like a nimble arrow.
Seating herself opposite Lena, Yaska cocked her head inquisitively, her exchange of looks with the mustached Compote hinting at an unspoken understanding.
"Len, let's head to the hospital tomorrow, just to be safe," Artem suggested, oblivious to Lena's reaction as she met Yaska's gaze and froze momentarily.
In a moment of revelation, Lena's laughter filled the air as she witnessed the familiar sparkle return to Yaska's eyes, her gaze shifting to Lena's abdomen, setting off a chain reaction of delight that culminated in a heartwarming smile spreading across Yaska's face.
"Yaska!?" Artem's bewildered exclamation prompted Lena to share the elating news. Embracing her husband with contagious joy, she confirmed their impending trip to the hospital, hinting at the awaited surprise that awaited them.
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