Dear RouXy,

You know, my RouXy, we always were afraid that you’d finish crushed by an automobile, a truck, a tractor, a motorcycle … So we tried first to convince you to spend nights in your house. – many cats die at night. We were successful. We also tried to convince you not to go far from houses. How would you have been able to escape a vixen whose young ones are starving? By climbing up on a tree with your three legs? And then, outside the village, there are hunters. They are not all as careful and respectful of regulations as your Master. And if some confuse donkeys and hinds, horses and deers, runners and mountain bikers and wild boars, they will confuse easily RouXy and a hare!

I write you that, my RouXy, but you cannot read this text and where you are nothing can happen to you any more …

Frimousse’s Master, who used to be somewhat yours


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