These are fairy tales for adults. About a cat and Kharms. The text by Tarasik Petrichenko came to me, in general, by accident. The author did not bother or ask for publication. But after reading it, I immediately wanted to share it with others. Good Kharms - this oxymoron can be used to describe the narrator of these short stories. Having mastered, perhaps not directly, but out of thin air, the technique of unmotivated absurdity, the author uses it for directly opposite purposes. The Oberiuts’ absurdity is a way of rejecting the world. It is designed to almost evoke a gag reflex. “And the young, plump mother was rubbing the pretty girl’s face against the brick wall. A small dog, having broken its thin leg, was lying on the panel. A little boy was eating something nasty from a spittoon. ‹…› Thus began a good summer day.” It is not for nothing that the real D.I. did not like children so much (which, however, is his personal business). The absurdity of the author of “Cats” is reconciled with reality, accompanied by an understanding smile: everything, in general, is bearable and somehow works out. For the cat-man, the day begins with the expectation of a fairy tale, even if there is a subway basement ahead. After all, the snow will still come from Kupchin to Ozerki, and the sun will rise tomorrow, “no matter what happens there.” For the author, Ligovo is dear. Anyone who has been or lived will understand. There are already enough singers from the Summer Garden and Nevsky. Some of what the author was “told” is well known to me. He didn't listen, but explained. And, probably, he did the right thing. As an author, I still disagree with only one thing. With the fact that the author of “Cats” coquettishly calls himself a non-writer. Wrote means writer. To paraphrase the well-known: literature is too serious (or fun) a matter to be left to only “professional writers.” In addition to a cat, a dog, a bun, a robot, and a magician live on the computer. Ready-made genre symbols awaiting their chroniclers. Igor Sukhikh