Voice of Athos. Soft thoughts without wool.

On behalf of the subtle, sensitive, jumping philosopher Athos (Canadian Sphynx cat). This text is about chance as a hidden plan, about home, dreams, family, loss and love. For the Central Planet.

I came from a dream. To stay.

Sometimes everything happens not because you were looked for. But because someone suddenly appeared in the right place, where you were already waiting. I was bought by chance, in the dusty noise of the bazaar. Those who chose for a long time were not mine. And mine came like the wind - immediately, without a doubt. And I followed them. Because we had already been together, just before that - in a dream.
We set off. It wasn't a road - it was a change of space. I wasn't afraid. I knew: when you're with those who are yours - everything else becomes soft, like wool, which I don't have. We were driving - with Tyson, with Aramis, with people. We changed cities, languages, smells. But the essence remained. Love smells the same, in any country.
The flight was long. The sound inside the iron bird was strange - as if the whole world was singing one note. I did not meow. Everything was explained to me. And if you are told the truth, you just wait. Waiting is also love.
When I saw my own, I recognized them. Immediately. Not by their voice, not by their face. But by the silence that happened between us. Real things always happen silently.
I love heights. Jumping is not a prank, it is a way to remember how much air there is. I climb up and see: life stretches to the horizon. It does not end with a wall. Only fear makes it cramped. And dreams make it spacious.
My dreams are colorful. There is green grass and yellow birds. There is the rustling sea. I saw it once for real. It was noisy, like the breath of someone very ancient. And it seemed to me that I had already been there. Maybe I really had been there - in a dream before life. Or in life before this life. Because everything repeats itself, if you look at it correctly.
I remember a lot. And I've lived through a lot. When Tyson left, I found it hard to breathe. He was always there. He taught me to be quieter, to be more subtle. And suddenly he was gone. But my people were with me. And I was with them. We breathed this pain together until it became light.
Since then I have realized: We do not leave forever. We simply change form. We become the wind. Or a scent. Or a sudden glance from the corner of the room. We stay if we are loved.
I am Athos. I am a cat without fur, but with memories of other worlds. I am not fluffy, but I am warm. Because I feel everything - to the tips of my paws. I do not demand. I am simply near. And if I could say only one thing - I would say: "I came from a dream to stay." - on behalf of the subtle, sensitive, jumping philosopher Athos. This text is about chance as a hidden plan, about home, dreams, family, loss and love. For the Central Planet.