Malkus and Olya’s Story

I wasn’t looking for a cat. But one evening, he found me. I was walking home and saw a tiny little ball in the entrance. I fed him and wanted to make a warm box so he wouldn’t freeze. I took him home so he wouldn’t run away. But while I was preparing that box, I realized: I wouldn’t be able to give him back. And when I was recording a video for friends, asking what to do, he simply hugged me with his little paws. I melted.

Marcus. That name appeared on the fourth day, because anything less perfect didn’t suit him. He was smart, gentle, calm. The best little white nose. Malkus. That’s what I called him tenderly.

With him, I found a sense I had long lost. War, anxiety-depressive syndrome — all this was in the background. And then there he was. A little warmth that chose me. I canceled a trip the next day because I didn’t want to leave him alone. We decorated the Christmas tree together, fell asleep together, woke up together. His place was by my heart — literally, because he sat on my left shoulder for hours. I took a million photos, recorded videos, captured moments of our happiness, thinking it was only the beginning.

And then it all ended. Marcus stopped eating. Five days of hospitals, tests, and hope. But the diagnosis was FIP — an incurable virus. He could not be saved. On December 31, at 3 a.m., I received a call from the 24-hour hospital saying Marcus had stopped breathing.

I cried all my tears. And now I wonder: why did he come into my life? He gave me two weeks of absolute happiness. He showed me what it’s like to be chosen. He came to leave love inside me.

On his back, there was a small heart. It was another symbol of his great soul, which had chosen me so sincerely. And even when he’s gone, that little heart will stay with me forever.

On the Memorial Stone, I wrote “Malkus,” because he never grew into “Marcus.” Now he’s everywhere with me. Malkus was happy because he was loved. And that love will never disappear 🖤

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