If a cat washes its face, expect guests soon

[Scene: A cozy kitchen in St. Petersburg. Dima is sipping tea and watching his fluffy gray cat, Boris, grooming himself near the window.]

Dima:
Gasps Anton! Look! Boris is washing his face again. You know what that means.

Anton:
He has a dirty face?

Dima:
No! Guests are coming. nods with conviction It’s a sign. Every time Boris does that, someone shows up.

Anton:
Dima, that’s just a coincidence. Cats groom themselves 30–50% of the day. Statistically, Boris is always washing his face.

Dima:
Yes, but it happens right before someone visits. Last week, remember? He started licking his paw, and two hours later, your cousin Kolya came to return your pressure cooker.

Anton:
That was because I asked him to. I literally texted him that morning.

Dima:
Still counts!

Anton:
Okay, let me try something. Pulls out his phone “Hey Kolya, are you busy tonight?” Let’s see if Boris can predict that.

Dima:
You laugh, but babushka always said: “If the cat washes by the window, you’ll have unexpected guests. If it washes by the door, they’ll be annoying.”

Anton:
Then Boris must really hate us. He was grooming himself on your pillow this morning—what does that mean?

Dima:
That I need to change my sheets?

[Both laugh.]

Anton:
Look, I get it. Superstitions are part of our culture. They’re cozy, even fun. But believing them literally? It’s like saying “don’t whistle indoors or you’ll lose all your money.” Has that ever happened?

Dima:
Maybe I’d be richer if I’d whistled less.

Anton:
Or maybe you shouldn’t have bet on Dogecoin.

Dima:
Low blow, comrade.

Anton:
Sorry. But seriously, superstitions feel true because we remember the hits and forget the misses. What about all the times Boris washed and no one came?

Dima:
I just assumed they got stuck in traffic.

Anton:
Dima…

Dima:
Fine, fine. Maybe not every time. But some things are just… comforting. Like my neighbor who knocks on wood whenever she says something hopeful. It’s not scientific, but it makes her feel better.

Anton:
I respect that. But there’s a difference between comfort and cause. If Boris was really a prophet, we’d rent him out for weddings.

Dima:
Don’t tempt me. “Boris the Oracle Cat”—I can see it now. Book him for your big day. He’ll predict which aunt brings drama!

[Both burst out laughing.]

Anton:
Look, how about a compromise? You can believe in Boris if I get to install a motion-activated camera and track how often he grooms himself.

Dima:
Deal. But if your data proves nothing… you owe me a bottle of kvass and a new scratching post.

Anton:
And if it proves he grooms himself all the time regardless of guests?

Dima:
…I’ll still believe. But I’ll say you were right. That’s the most I can offer.

Anton:
Fair enough. Boris, you hear that? You’re on camera now.

[Boris flicks his tail and resumes washing his face. Both friends look at him.]

Dima:
…We should probably tidy up. Just in case.

Anton:
Sighs I’ll put the kettle back on.