Our cat’s name was Danylo, but we affectionately called him Danyusha. For our family—and for me personally—he was more than just a family member. He was such a vivid personality that once, thanks to a description of his temperament in a zoopsychology class, I received the highest grade, an automatic pass on the exam, and, as a result, an increased scholarship.

Everyone in our family loved him and was proud of him. Danyusha had very soft curls on his belly and loved it when we scratched him there. From childhood he was playful and very tactile. When he wanted attention or rest, he would come up to one of us, stand right in front, and meow very loudly until he was picked up and petted.

One of his special traits was his ability to drink plenty of water. It is often hard to make cats drink enough, but that was not the case with Danyusha. At first, he drank water from everyone’s cups, and later he had his own. When he was thirsty, you could always tell by his eyes. As the oldest pet in the family, he even taught the dog and the other cat to drink water more often.

Danyusha loved heights. Inside the house he climbed wardrobes and curtain rails. And as soon as the first spring sun appeared, he could be found only on the roof of the house. He was a constant seeker of sunlight: during the day he liked to rest among the tomatoes in the garden, moving with the sun every hour. Even in the last days of his life, every morning he asked to go outside as soon as the sun rose.

He was very stubborn and always demanded his way. If he was not allowed outside after an illness, he would go and push the doors open. If that did not work, he would meow very loudly. All our neighbors knew him, because in the evenings, when we called him in the yard or called him to eat, he would run and meow loudly with every step, so that someone would come out to meet him and pick him up.

He was a true guardian of the yard and a leader in the house. Danyusha liked to meow for attention and treats, sit on a separate chair, or push away anyone who was lying near the radiator in his place. Or he would wait for the right moment: he would look for a laptop and, while someone stepped away for a few minutes, he would run up and lie down right on the keyboard.

Danyusha was fearless. He loved to sit out thunderstorms on the windowsill with the window open. In addition, he once fell ill, and even then his courage and stubbornness showed. Before surgery, the veterinarian admitted that he was very surprised and had never seen a cat who held on so bravely and did not fall asleep from such a dose of anesthesia.

He always supported us when things were hard and was always nearby. He also loved sleeping with me, settling on the pillow next to mine and meowing when the light at night disturbed his sleep.

Of course, he was a great gourmet: he loved cheese, fish, waffles, and pastries. In autumn and winter, he would wrap himself in my sweater and could sleep there all day without stopping, giving a feeling of warmth and boundless love.

Two years ago, our family went through an exhausting two weeks when Danyusha suddenly disappeared from home. It is unknown where he was, but it was two weeks of hunger and severe cold for him. This affected his digestive system and joints. After that, he was often ill. Before his death, he fell sick once more and, unfortunately, could no longer overcome it.

Yet now every bit of sunshine—especially the summer sun—and every ray reminds us of him. It was a great happiness to have such a cat and a great sorrow to lose him. He will forever remain our beloved Danyusha.