Tomorrow I will die. So today I want to tell my story. You will not believe it. Sometimes I do not believe it myself. But every word is true.

When I was a child, I was quiet and kind. I loved animals more than anything. My parents gave me many pets: dogs, birds, rabbits, a little monkey. I was happiest when I was feeding them and playing with them.

I married young, and my wife loved animals too. We had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey and a cat. The cat was big, beautiful and completely black. He was also very smart. My wife sometimes laughed and said, “You know, people say that all black cats are witches.” She did not really believe it, of course.

The cat's name was Pluto. He was my favorite pet. I fed him myself, and he followed me everywhere in the house. He even tried to follow me into the street.

We were friends for several years. But during those years, I changed. I began to drink too much. Alcohol made me angry and moody. I shouted at my wife. I was cruel to the animals. Only Pluto was safe from me, at first.

Then, one night, I came home very drunk. I thought that Pluto was avoiding me. I grabbed him, and he was afraid and bit my hand. At that moment, a terrible anger filled me. I was not myself anymore. I took a small knife from my pocket and I hurt the poor cat's eye. He lost the eye.

The next morning I felt ashamed. But I did not stop drinking. I drank even more, to forget.

Slowly the cat got better, but now he ran away when he saw me. At first I felt sad. Then I felt angry. Something evil was growing inside me. One morning, calmly, I took the cat into the garden and I killed him. I hung him from a tree. I cried while I did it, because I knew that he had loved me.