“...When I lay, falling asleep, he climbed on me, like on a tree floating on a river in the darkness of the night, and purred, purred, purred. At first it was loud, then quieter, quieter, quieter. Maybe he imagined that he was floating away with me into our common dreams, or maybe he was casting a spell. Wanted me to become small. If this had happened, the cat would probably have killed me and eaten me. Well, what would I be compared to him? He swung at a two-meter refrigerator in one leap. How much effort would it take me to climb onto the refrigerator if I were the size of a cat? How much would I puff myself up, how much sweat would I shed? I would probably need climbing equipment to overcome the height to which my cat flew up in an instant...”