Bright Cat

By the end of the service the winter sun was already high. The abbot preached, I stood joyfully nearby and looked at a dozen and a half parishioners who drowned in a huge radiant temple.

In this village, people have almost not lost their traditions: the left half was occupied by women, and the right half - a pair of old men. In the middle of the church, under the main chandelier sat a cat. Old strong cat.

The sermon ended, the lay people came to venerate the cross. The abbot, the deacon and myself went in the altar and unvested and the cat kept sitting. He dozed under the church sun and swayed from side to side in his sleep.

When the last parishioner left the church, and there was silence in the temple, we heard a purr, sometimes like snoring. I looked curiously at the cat. My interest was noticed by the abbot:
"Do you like him? It's Barsik. We don't notice him anymore, we're used to him."
"Where did he come from?" I was curious.
"He's always been here. Well, of course, not him, but some of his ancestors ... I have served here for thirty years and as long as I can remember at every service he always comes to this place and prays... that is he takes a nap. Let him rest. But about mice, we have no problem.

The abbot found his scufya, and we went to his house fir tea. Passing by the cat, the priest greeted him: "Barsik! The cat fell on his back, crossed his legs, and said, "Mia-a."

Bright Cat / Archpriest Alexei Lisnyak, 2010