Помещаю свое сочинение на английском языке. Будьте снисходительны пожалста!
I've always loved cats. That's why all along in my life at least one cat has been living with me. But how come that all of a sudden there were eight? Too many for one small house ten meters long and six wide. It happened when our cat had six babies. They had just been born and were crawling around their mom. Suddenly, we heard a very strange sound outside. It was like the creak of an old engine, shrill and insistent. A tiny kitten just wandered off the street. It was thin and black and white. He came in and toddled toward the new mother, regardless of her warning hisses. He was calling for food, producing the same sounds that we had heard before, maybe thinking he was meowing. He was hungry but all the nipples had already been taken. Mom-cat had not recognized him so far but he never gave up and he kept on trying. She didn't understand yet that he was going to stay there for good. Finally, he crept up on her when she was licking her babies. And by mistake the mom licked him too. Right away he became the seventh child. He won hands down. There was not enough space for everybody, so, they ate by turns. But this stranger got a leg up on all his new brothers. He had an edge on them because he had done some living. We gave him the name "Chaplik" after Charlie Chaplin because of his black and white colors, like Chaplin's tuxedo and mustache. Chaplik very soon became the real boss and we just toed the line. If he felt like regaling on some delicious food, everybody would go to the ends of the earth in order to satisfy him. All of our neighbors knew his special voice; big ferocious dogs were afraid of him, and I never saw any imprudent cat nearby. They swerved at once from their way the moment they heard his frightening roar.
Now he lives in Canada with me. This guy has a good head on his shoulders and understands very well that here he should be politically correct and he doesn't express his opinion about local cats, weather or politicians at the top of his voice. Maybe once in a blue moon. But he tells me everything he has to say. I learned to understand his language long ago.
After Hebrew, French, and especially Canadian English it was a walk in a park.