Kuzia: A Heartwarming Tale of Friendship and Adventure

**Kuzma**

The wedding was over, the guests had gone, and our daughter had moved in with her husband. The flat felt empty. After a week of stewing in the silence, my wife and I decided to buy a pet. We wanted something to fill the void, something to keep our parental instincts alivefeeding, training, walks, cleaning up after someone. And secretly, I hoped that unlike our daughter, this creature wouldnt talk back, steal my cigarettes, or rummage through the fridge at night. We hadnt settled on what to get yet, figuring wed decide on the spot.

On Sunday, we went to the pet market. Near the entrance, some cute guinea pigs were being sold. I glanced at my wife questioningly.

“No chance,” she said flatly. “Ours was land-dwelling.”

The fish were too quiet, and the parrotsvivid and chattyset off her allergy to bird fluff. I fancied a monkey; its antics reminded me of our daughter during her teenage years. But my wife threatened to lie between us like a corpse, so I backed down. After all, Id known the monkey for five minutesI was used to her.

That left dogs and cats. Dogs needed constant walks, and cats well, I didnt fancy myself peddling kittens at the tube station. Soa cat.

We recognised *our* cat immediately. He lay in a plexiglass tank, surrounded by clueless kittens nosing at his furry belly. The cat slept. A sign on the tank read *Kuzma*. The seller told a sob story of his rough kittenhoodhow the family dog, raised alongside him, nearly mauled him, leaving him homeless.

Our chosen one was a handsome grey Persian, though the lack of papers made me wonder if his squashed nose was pedigree or birth trauma. Officially, his name was Kaiser, but he answered to Kuzma. We bought him.

The drive home was uneventfulKuzma snored softly under the car seat. In the stairwell, knowing my stance on mutilation, my wife smirked and asked, “You sure hes not neutered?”

I stiffened. Not because I have anything against *preferences*, but a neutered cat reminded me of Quasimodo, mutilated by humanity. I splayed Kuzma on the landing for a quick inspection. In the dim light, his furry nethers were hard to see, his belly matted with clumps. I tried summoning my inner zoophile and ran a hand between his legs. He yowled, but the equipment seemed intact.

That evening, our daughter raided the fridge. Spotting Kuzma, she abandoned her half-eaten cake and pounced. She and her mother bathed him in the tub with baby shampoo, swaddled him, and blow-dried himusing *my* towel, for some reason.

Once presentable, my wife began brushing him, snipping mats. Kuzma whined. I left them to it with a beer.

Thena shriek, a crash, glass shattering. I found my wife on the sofa, rocking, her hands crisscrossed with bloody scratches. Scissors and tufts of fur littered the floor.

“What happened?”

She wailed, “His *balls*!”

“Whose balls?”

“The *cats*!”

Im no vet, but I doubted theyd just *fall off*.

Through sobs, she revealed that while trimming a mat between his legs, hed jerkedand shed snipped what was there. Now, clutched in her bloody palms, were two fluffy clumps, speckled with blood.

The cat had bolted under the sofa after shredding her hands and smashing a vase. Frankly, Id have done worse.

Armed with a mop, my daughter and I crawled after him. Amber eyes glowed from the dust. He hissed, ignoring sausage bribes. I understoodbloke to bloke.

Finally, we dragged him out. He was a wreckwild-eyed, dusty, a far cry from the regal Persian wed bought. Heartbreaking, really.

I held him, scratching his ears until he relaxed, purring hoarsely. My wife hovered, babbling about calling an ambulance. The cat stiffened at the sight of her. I shooed her away and took him to the kitchen.

Over beers, we bonded. I ranted about living with women; he purred in solidarity. Eventually, he sprawled belly-up on my lap. Seizing the moment, I checkedproperly.

Nothing.

No male parts. Just a very pregnant *female* Persian. What my wife had “snipped” were bloody fur clumps.

We didnt confront the seller. Shared trauma binds you. And Kuzma? Shes *Kizzy* now. Yesterday, she had four kittens. Our house is full again.

**Lesson:** Always check the plumbing before letting your wife near it with scissors.