The little siamese kitten was sitting on the stoop to Illya's apartment building. It appeared to be well fed, and clean. Bravely holding his place, the small creature seemed unimpressed by the man, and continued to complain to this stranger about his predicament.
"Kem vy sebya otnosite?" Illya asked the question, flattering the kitten with a feigned expectation of being told to whom it belonged.
It answered in a tone that indicated to Illya that he should understand what the mewing meant. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to give it something to eat.
''Vy golodny malyshka?'' Illya reckoned that the little one might be hungry. Surely none of his neighbors would have left this tiny kitten here to fend for itself on the street.
Knowing that he would most likely regret doing so, he picked up the little beige kitten and carried it up to his apartment, figuring he could keep it for one night and then find a suitable home for it at work the next day. An enforcement agent didn't need a menagerie of animals waiting while he traipsed off on long assignments.
No doubt one of the secretaries would be willing to take home a blond, even if it was a Siamese and not a Russian.