After my cat brought home some kittens from who knows where, a policeman knocked on the door.

😨😲After my cat brought home some kittens from who knows where, a policeman knocked on the door. His words made my heart stop…

That night had started peacefully. I was folding clothes when, suddenly, Lili’s scream came from the living room:

“Mom! She’s got something in her mouth again!”

“Who?” I froze mid-stride.

“Marsa! A kitten! Another one!”

I ran to the window and couldn’t believe what I saw: my tabby cat was walking across the yard, carrying a tiny black ball between her teeth.

In the corner of the room, in a wicker basket, there were already four of them—tiny, with their eyes tightly closed and their sides warm and velvety.

Marsa carefully placed the new one next to the others, licked it tenderly, and lay around them, as if protecting them from everyone.

I couldn’t understand: where was she getting these puppies? And why was she bringing them one after another?

During the day, there was a knock on the door. So loud that the window pane rattled.

I froze, and Lili clung to my hand, as if sensing something bad.

I opened the door: on the threshold, a police officer and Mrs. Miller, our neighbor, known for noticing everything and everyone. Her face was as gloomy as a storm cloud.

“Do you have a cat?” the officer asked, wasting no time with greetings.

“Yes…” I nodded cautiously. “Why? Has something happened?”

He held my gaze for a long moment, examined me, and said in a low voice:

—In that case… you’d better sit down.

I didn’t yet know what I was about to hear, but a chill ran down my spine and my heart skipped a beat.

To be continued in the first comment👇👇

I automatically sat on the edge of the sofa, feeling the cold cup of tea chill my fingers.

Lili curled up next to me, and Marsa, as if she understood that the conversation involved her, slowly came out of the kitchen and sat directly across from the policeman, looking at him with her motionless green eyes.

—This morning,—she began,—in the yard next door, they found… an empty kennel. The puppies were no longer there.

—And that?…—my voice trembled treacherously.

“The owner claims she saw her cat taking them away one by one.” She paused, as if searching for the right words.

The neighbor sighed and, lowering her gaze, said:

“Those kittens… they’re mine. Their mother died this morning. And your Marsa…”

I looked in confusion at my cat, who was purring softly and cuddling the kittens with her paws.

“Forgive the misunderstanding. She probably acted that way because we had found other owners for the kittens, but she still needed to feel like a mother. I’ll return them to her right now.”

The neighbor stood for a moment observing this peaceful scene—Marsa tenderly licking and maternally caring for the kittens—and added:

“Let them stay here. I think… it will be better for everyone.”

I nodded, and Marsa, as if understanding every word, hugged her new little ones even tighter to her.