My apartment was full of life.
Every morning I was amazed at how my once quiet and empty apartment had undergone a complete transformation. The wall clock used to chime and the fridge hummed, but now those sounds were gone. Now there were running steps, purring, rustling. Every night, as I drifted off to sleep, I was glad to know that I would be the first thing in the morning to look into those eager eyes.
The kitten arrived at the beginning of my holiday. I was prepared for everything as much as possible. I had read the care manuals, bought the goods and furnished the flat so that the new arrival would be comfortable. He was the size of a ball of yarn, shaking in my arms and squeaking softly. The separation from my mother was still hard, but soon we would be best friends - I was convinced of that. I put the cat in the basket and stroked its shiny black fur with my index finger.
The very next day he started purring in my lap. A smooth and low growl that was the perfect sound to describe deep contentment. "We're going to have fun together," I said to my mate, and I was almost certain he nodded his head.
The cat easily got used to my everyday life and my way of living. We cooked together, studied together and went out together. When I came home from school, the cat was waiting on the doormat in the hallway and immediately demanded that I play with her. We were inseparable.
This time, the school day had stretched into a long one. I hurried along the street-lit road, aware that a friend at home was probably surprised. Late arrivals were not usual for me, and I felt a little guilty inside.
When I arrived at the front door, my hand brushed an empty pocket. Reality hit me like a hammer: my house keys were hanging on the other side of the locked door on the key ring. The door was locked, I was in the stairwell and the cat was alone - after a long day - in the apartment. I patted myself on the back and dug the phone out of my pocket. I heard someone scratching with their nails on the other side of the door. That didn't exactly make me feel any better.
After a quick Google search, I found 24 Center, a locksmith service. I didn't take a moment, but called the number. I was in a terrible hurry to explain the situation to the 24 Center customer service representative, and in retrospect I am amazed that he could even understand my rant. The situation was relayed to the local locksmith, whose footsteps echoing down the stairwell were like salutary music to me.
In the evening I sat on the sofa, the cat purring in my lap and I was happy with my life. The problem was solved, thanks to a quick and professional locksmith. I would be more careful in the future, but just in case, I saved the number of the 24 Center in my contacts.
"You won't have to wait any longer," I said to the cat. He closed his eyes and had clearly understood my message.