The hooligan cat

I recently received an application marked URGENT.

I get into the car and call back.

“Our neighbor’s door won’t open,” says the young guy, “she didn’t even lock it, but it’s still closed.”

“It happens,” I say, and hear my grandmother wailing in the background. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

I arrive and go up to the floor.

Grandma stands with her ear to the door.

- Hello! What's there? - I ask her.

“Kuzka is a monster, he’s raping Lyuska there,” my grandmother tells me.

Oops, I wasn't prepared for this.

- Ummm, - I hang, - can you tell me more? Are you the owner of the apartment?

“Of course,” the grandmother says very loudly, “open up, come on.”

- And who is inside?

- Yes, my cat locked himself in, - the granny answers, - and he's raping his sister Lyuska there. She's in heat.

I hear someone giggling on the stairs.

I look out and there is a guy and a girl.

“We were the ones calling you,” says the young man, seeing me.

- Do you know grandma? - I ask, - does she live here?

“Yes, of course,” they answer, “we know, he lives here with the cats.”

“Open up,” the grandmother shouts and sighs, “although it’s too late anyway, there will be kittens again.”

I check - it's locked.

“But you have it locked,” I say to my grandmother.

“Well, of course, to the lock,” she looks at me, squinting, as if doubting my adequacy, “I know, that’s why they called you.”

- How could the cat lock himself in?

- I told you, - the grandmother shakes the walls again, - I went into the pantry, - and she points to the door of the pantry on the floor. I locked Lyuska in the room. And while I was putting the jars there, Kuzka locked himself in and raped Lyuska there. What's so hard to understand? - the grandmother gets nervous.

- So, let's take a breath and imagine: how does a cat lock a lock with a key? - I ask my grandmother.

- How should I know? - she gets nervous, - somehow it was closed. It was closed, you see?

- Yes, it's locked. And the lock is locked with a key. And I've never seen cats that lock their locks with their own keys. Latches on the doors - yes. But locks - that's never happened before. Could someone else have locked themselves in there? Were you in the pantry for long?

- No, - the grandmother cools down a little, - I just took out the jars. What's going on here - two minutes. This isn't Kuzka, but a horse with eggs... - she starts again.

The puzzles don't fit together for me. I'm starting to worry:

- Are you sure you are the owner of the apartment? Will you show me the documents? - I ask.

- Of course. I've lived here all my life.

She knocks on the next door, which a split second later (apparently the owner was standing by the door and listening) opens and another grandmother sticks her head out.

- Semenovna, - the owner of the rapist cat screams, - tell him that I live here. He came and for the last 10 minutes all he's done is ask questions.

- Huh? - the neighbor asks again.

“Tell them I live here,” the cats’ owner booms throughout the entire entrance.

“Yes, yes,” Semyonovna chimes in, “of course he lives.”

I start to open it and realize that there is a key inserted from the inside.

I try to stay to the side of the door, because I assume that when I open the door, someone might jump out.

And not a cat at all.

Because somehow it doesn’t click for me that as soon as the owner left the door, the cat Kuzka twirled his whiskers, took out (where could he have gotten them from?) the keys, closed the door and went to pester the cat Lyuska.

The lock is closed half a turn.

I carefully open the doors.

I look at the bunch hanging from the key inserted into the keyhole, and everything becomes clear.

There is some kind of shaggy pompom hanging on the keychain along with the keys.

Apparently, when the grandmother slammed the door behind her onto the tongue of the lock, which opened with a handle, the bunch of keys began to swing from side to side and the cat, simply deciding to hunt for a woolen pompom, jumped, caught it with his paw and turned the key.

The grandmother, seeing that the door was open, bursts into the apartment screaming:

“You bastard,” she yells at the crazed cat hiding under the table in the kitchen, “here’s what I’ll do to you,” she screams and throws a slipper at him.

The cat looks puzzled.

Indeed, what did he do: he played with the fluffy thing that his grandmother rocked for him, satisfied the cat that was demanding it, and maybe even had a snack after these dashing exploits.

What's going on here?

And how can he understand these strange people?

She left them alone and was still unhappy with something)

- Oh, - the grandmother sighs in her heart, - there will be kittens again. Do you need a kitten? - suddenly changing her tone, she begins to hand out kittens.

“No, thank you,” I hasten to refuse.

This is the first time something like this has happened to me, so I tell my grandmother:

- Just in case, walk around the apartment, check while I and the neighbors are here that there is no one else in the apartment.

The grandmother waves her hand, shows her passport with her registration, pays me and I move on.

You can see anything.

Who would have guessed that the cat, jumping after the pompom on the keychain, would close the doors and get to the cat Lucy.

Although, maybe Kuzka is not as simple as he seems, and this was a cunning plan that he had been hatching for a long time?

What do you think