Zhenka was late for the institute. And the weather was not pleasant: the wind had picked up, the sky was covered with clouds, the kitchen window opened, and the air rushed in, lifting the light curtain with a fine drizzle, trying to throw it over the refrigerator. Zhenka muttered something unkind to the wind and rushed to close the window, thinking at the same time, "I should get an umbrella." He caught the curtain with one hand, and with the other he was about to close the window sash, but froze. A pigeon was sitting on the window sill.
- You're the last thing we need here, buddy," Zhenka told him, "get out of here.
The pigeon not only didn't fly out, but tried to get in. To stop it, Zhenka let go of the curtain again; it flew into the kitchen, he caught it again, closed the window, and was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but then he saw that the pigeon was walking around on the floor. It was nibbling at the crumbs that had fallen during breakfast, and seemed not at all afraid of the presence of a human being nearby.
- Fuck you," muttered Zhenka, "I'm already late for the first pair!
He shut the curtain behind the radiator to open the window again and let the pigeon out, but at that moment he saw a man leaning out of the window next door. Their house had the shape of a letter "G", the apartment where Zhenka lived with his parents was a corner apartment, and the apartment next to them belonged to another entrance. They had recently moved in, so they didn't know all the neighbors yet. The man looked to be about fifty years old with a good tail, a fair amount of gray in his beard, and the muscles under his plaid flannel shirt showed that his uncle had not been known to be a wimp in his youth. He leaned out of the window almost halfway out and looked down at the eaves below and up at the roof, turning his head. Then he saw Zhenka, made an apologetic gesture with his hand, and disappeared through his window.
He looked back at the pigeon, which was quietly fishing under the table, finding that there were more crumbs there than in the middle of the kitchen. It seemed almost tame, and then it struck Zhenka: wasn't it the one the uncle from the neighbor's driveway was looking for? It must have been a tame pigeon, because the man's window had opened the same way as Zhenka's, and the bird had flown away. Then he decided to change tactics. "We should catch it and give it to that uncle," thought Zhenka and looked under the table.
The pigeon turned and stared at him. Only then did the boy see that the bird was unusual. Its eyes seemed slightly larger than normal pigeons, its pupil was oblong rather than round. "Exotic breed," decided Zhenka. He squatted down and cautiously reached out his hand. The pigeon looked at his hand, then back at Zhenka, came over and pecked him lightly on the finger. This behavior of the bird seemed very strange, and in general this pigeon was unusual. He even had a color different from other street pigeons, not gray, but three-colored: red, white and black spots. It was dark under the table, and Zhenka wanted to lure the bird into the light to get a better look at it.
He took a small piece of bread, crumbled it in the middle of the kitchen and walked away. The pigeon came out from under the table and began to peck at the crumbs. Zhenka squatted carefully again and began to look at the bird. The pigeon made unusual movements with its head, not as all birds do, pecking the floor with its beak, but smoothly lowering its head, grasping the crumbs, slightly raising its beak and sending the food inside. His head seemed larger than usual too, covered in thick fluff, making his muzzle quite cute. "It's still young, just a chick," Zhenka thought, "that's why it's not afraid, tame and inexperienced. He wanted to touch the bird, he carefully reached out and stroked the pigeon. He jerked his hand away, staring fearfully at the strange creature walking around his kitchen.
My hand expected to feel stiff feathers, because it looked like a bird in front of Zhenka. But it wasn't feathers. It was wool. Having recovered a little from the surprise, the guy thoughtfully looked at the mysterious animal, not knowing what to do next. But whoever this creature of nature was, it had to be returned to its owner. Zhenka fearfully stretched out both hands and grasped the bird-beast by the place where it should have wings. The wings were there, but they were short and too soft, covered with thick fur. It was a wonder how this creature managed to fly from one window to another at the height of the ninth floor without falling down.
But I had to do something to make sure I wasn't late for the second pair. We couldn't leave this miracle of nature here until evening. Zhenka went to the window and looked out. The window of the neighbor who was looking for the pigeon was closed, but after a couple of seconds his face appeared behind the glass. It was obvious that he was worried about his pet, waiting for it to appear. Zhenka made sure that the curtain was securely fastened behind the radiator and opened the window. The neighbor followed suit.
- Hello," Zhenka greeted him. - Did your pigeon fly in?
Relief was reflected on the man's face.
- Oh, my, what a little brat! He jumped out of the window! - he said. - Thank you for taking me in.
- You're welcome. How can I give it to you? I can't reach it from the window.
- No, no, don't go through the window. I don't want him to fall, and he doesn't fly very well. What kind of apartment do you have?
- 215th," Zhenka said.
- I got a 249. Can I come over?
- Uh-huh. But you should come in right now, because I'm late for school.
- Two minutes and I'll be with you," the uncle fussed, closing the window.
It wasn't more than two minutes later when the elevator opened and the doorbell rang. Zhenka opened the door and invited the panting neighbor in. They went into the kitchen. The pigeon had finished all the bread and sat leaning on his tail, bending his legs and smoothing the hair on his chest with his beak, as if licking it. The neighbor splashed his hands and said reproachfully:
- Goshka, you rascal, why do you bother people? - and added, turning to Zhenka: - I'm sorry. And thank you again.
- Come on, I was late for school anyway, even for second period.
- I'm really, really sorry," the man repeated, taking his pet in his arms.
- Tell me," Zhenka plucked up courage and asked: - What breed is this? Is it some kind of exotic pigeon?
- This is Goshka," the neighbor looked at Zhenka warily for some reason, before adding: - Cat Dove.
- I beg your pardon?
- Pigeon-cat. Go-cat.
If Zhenka hadn't seen with his own eyes the animal the man was holding in his arms, he would have thought he was joking, or worse, that the man was not at home. But the neighbor held Goshka the way cats are held. Zhenka saw his spread legs, which he had not noticed before. Of course, there are birds with plumage on their feet, even if this one had not feathers, but wool, but his paws were not quite bird-like. Actually, they weren't really birds' feet at all. From above they looked more like pigeon's, but they were a little longer and thicker. But underneath... Zhenka saw even the pads on his paws, just like a kitten's! He looked dumbfounded at his neighbor and asked:
- How in the world did that... happen?
- Well, it's hard to explain... unless you're a biologist. What school do you go to?
- In Technology.
- Then I won't burden you with complicated terms," the man smiled, "consider it a cross between a pigeon and a cat.
- That's impossible. Different species don't interbreed. Or families. I'm really not good at biology.
- They don't interbreed in nature," the neighbor corrected, and then he suddenly realized and extended his hand to Zhenka: - I'm Boris Mikhalych, by the way. Professor Severov.
- Eugene, - Zhenka shook his outstretched hand.
- It's a pleasure. So, Eugene," the professor said confidentially, stroking Gosha, whom he was still holding in his arms, "in order not to bore you with scientific explanations, I'll try to tell you in a simpler way. Most animals, including humans, have an even number of chromosomes. When reproducing, each chromosome looks for its own pair, so the number of chromosomes always remains even.
- What about the mule? - Zhenka asked.
- Ah," Boris exclaimed happily, "and you said you didn't know anything! A mule is produced by crossing a donkey with a mare, right? But they are both parnokopatnyh hoof, and in the donkey purposely removed one chromosome to make the mule is incapable of reproduction. Birds and cats are a different matter. The pigeon has 16 chromosomes and the cat has 38. To cross them, I had to remove 22 chromosomes. That's why Goshka got only fur and some elusive traits from the cat.
- And indeed, when he flew in, I hadn't noticed that he was something different. - Zhenka gently stroked Gosha again.
- Well, we'd better go," said the professor, "you're late. And Poopy's waiting for us.
- Poopy? - Zhenka asked warily, expecting anything from this strange man. - Who the hell is he?
- A penguin poodle. He gets very anxious when he's alone. He starts running all over the apartment. And he's heavy, so the neighbors downstairs, you know, get offended. - The professor was about to leave, but Zhenka said:
- Boris Mihalych, can I... this... look at Pupi? There's no point in going to the institute.
- Why shouldn't I? Come on, I'll introduce you to Poopy.
They left Zhenka's apartment, took the elevator down, crossed to Boris Mihalych's entrance and went up to his apartment. Its layout was very similar to Zhenka's, but that was the end of it. If order had ever been heard of here, it had been completely forgotten, though it was obvious that the owner still occasionally tried to maintain it. On the floor in the hallway there were traces of excrement, apparently Goshka's. From the hallway was visible part of the room, filled with test tubes, microscopes and devices of unknown purpose, and all this was not only on tables, but also on chairs, nightstands and even on the floor. However, Goshka, sensing the familiar surroundings, made something like a squeaky meow, jumped from the professor's hands, flapping his forelegs and wings funny, and disappeared into the room cluttered with devices.
A poodle came out of the other room. It was the same story: if Zhenka hadn't been told that it was a penguin poodle, he wouldn't have guessed it right away. It was just a very fat poodle with somewhat disproportionately short front legs. Because of this, he ridiculously lifted the rear part of his body up, tumbling from side to side as he walked. He couldn't believe that he was seeing with his own eyes these incredible animals that he hadn't realized existed a couple of hours ago.
- Here, meet Pupi," said the professor. - Don't be afraid, he is kind, you can pet him.
The boy reached out carefully, leaned over, and ran his fingertips along Poopy's back. The white curls that had seemed so "dog-like" turned out to be stiff to the touch and... not woolly. Then Zhenka realized: they were feathers! Feeling the stroking on his back, Poopy suddenly stood up on his hind legs, making Zhenka yank his hand away in fright, and lowered his front legs down and patted his sides with them. He tried to bark, but he was no good at it, his voice sounding more like a jerky duck's quack.
- He's the one who's rejoicing," said Boris Mihalych.
Zhenka recovered a little from his fright and stroked Poopy's head.
- Boris Mikhalych," he asked, "where did you get the penguin for crossbreeding?
- I didn't need a whole penguin, just its DNA. I plucked a couple of feathers from a big male at the zoo. He tried to peck me," laughed the professor. - I asked my neighbor for the hair of a female poodle. She often cuts her hair and makes pillows out of it, saying it helps with sciatica.
- Which did Poopy get more of, the dog's or the penguin's?
- You see, a penguin has 46 chromosomes like a human. But a dog has 78! So I had to remove 32 dog chromosomes.
- So Poopy is more penguin than dog? - Zhenka marveled.
- It turns out that way.
Standing on his hind legs, Poopy leaned on his tail, which was thicker and shorter than a normal poodle's. His height reached almost to Zhenka's chest. The boy touched Poopy's front paw. The only difference from a dog's paw was the absence of claws. Quacking and squealing, Poopy put out a long, sharp tongue covered with thin worm-like outgrowths, like a toothbrush.
- I think he wants to go out," said the professor. - I walk him four times a day. He's as smart as a dog, he never gets dirty in the house. It's Goshka, the rascal, who can't get used to the cat's toilet, who shits in the blue way.
Boris Mihalych put a collar on Pupy, he lowered himself to his four paws again and wagged his short stump happily. They went down to the yard, Pupie scurried across the lawn, sat down on his hind legs, and began concentrating on his penguin-dog neediness. Zhenkin's initial interest was somehow replaced by sadness. After a short silence, he asked the scientist, who was watching the natural needs of his pet with professional curiosity:
- Boris Mihalych, is it ethical? I mean, these animals did not ask to be experimented on in this way.
- Well, they weren't animals, young man. They were just fluff, the undercoat, so to speak. I took small samples of wool and feathers from unsuspecting common animals.
- But they became what they became. Who knows, perhaps some violation of natural laws in their development makes them uncomfortable.
The professor did not seem in the least embarrassed or offended, and said with confidence:
- I'm keeping a close eye on Goshka and Poopy's health. I assure you, they are not experiencing any discomfort.
- What if someone finds out they exist?
- Everybody knows. Are we hiding? When Goshka came to you, you didn't immediately realize that something was wrong with him. And Poopy's neighbors see him every day. What do they see? A clumsy fat poodle who can stand on his hind legs.
Zhenka felt even sadder. The meaning of what was happening began to elude him. What are these experiments for? What benefit to society can bring pigeon-cat and poodle-penguin? It would be better to breed a new fruit, twice as rich in vitamins, this woeful professor. Zhenka sighed, patted Poopy on his fat backside, nodded to Boris Mihalych, and went home to call Seryoga and ask him to write off the missed lectures.