Family cat
Loli is a cat who rules the house — and everyone knows it. She sleeps wherever she wants, eats whenever she wants, and ignores everyone except Maja, who is the only one allowed to pet her when Loli hasn't asked for it. She has a strange relationship with Jole — they look like they can't stand each other, but when it rains, they always sleep side by side. Loli is mysterious, independent, and sometimes disappears for days, then comes back as if nothing happened. Maria insists that Loli understands every word — she just chooses to ignore them.
It was a typical afternoon in Vallumora when Maria noticed Loli was missing. "Loli!" Maria called out, but there was no response. Vito started crying, while Pino nervously paced in the kitchen. "Where's Loli?" asked a worried Pino. No one had an answer. "We have to find her!" declared Maja, already sketching a poster with Loli's picture. But as they gathered to discuss the search plan, they heard an unusual sound coming from the attic...
In the basement of an old building in the square, there was a library that wasn't on any map. It had no sign, no opening hours, and the doors opened only for some. Hana stumbled upon it by chance, escaping the rain. She descended the wet steps, pushed the heavy wooden door, and entered a room full of books from floor to ceiling. It smelled of old paper, wood, and something sweet—like honey mixed with dust. At the table sat Helena, Eva's sister, with a smile that promised adventures. Loli, the family cat, curled up on a shelf, watched Hana with her green eyes. "Go ahead, but don't choose," Helena said, without lifting her gaze from the book in her hands. "What?" Hana was puzzled. "In this library, you don't choose books. Books choose you."
In the narrowest street of the old town stood a bakery that never had more than one customer a day. Every morning, an elderly woman named Maria would knead the dough, braid a perfectly shaped bun, and place it on the window, where the cat Loli often slept. Then she would sit and wait. The customer was always the same — an old man with a blue hat who would arrive exactly at 7:15, leave a coin, take the bun, and leave without a word. People thought Maria was crazy. 'Why doesn't she make more? Why doesn't she sell to others? Her buns are the best in town!' But Maria would just wave her hand and say: 'I don't bake for everyone. I bake for the one who needs it.' One morning, the old man with the blue hat didn't come. 7:15. 7:30. 8:00. The bun sat on the window, cooling. For the first time in thirty years, Maria began to cry in her bakery. Then there was a knock at the door from someone she had never seen before...
In the neighborhood by the river, there lived a dog that everyone called Jole. He was brown, with one white ear, and as far as anyone could remember — he had always been there. The old women claimed they remembered him from their childhood. "Impossible," the young ones said. "Dogs don't live that long." But Jole was different. He had a scar on his paw, limped on his hind leg, one eye was closed, and he had a knot on his tail. Each injury had its own story. Little Filip, who had just moved to the neighborhood and had no friends, sat every day on the steps in front of the building watching Jole pass by. One day, the dog sat next to him, and — Vito could swear — looked at him with that one eye as if he understood him. "Everyone says you've lived nine times," Filip whispered. "Is that true?" The dog barked. And old Mrs. Maria, who lived on the ground floor and had heard everything, opened her window and said, "Jole hasn't lived nine lives, boy. But nine times he almost died. And each time he learned something people don't know..." From the window, Loli watched the scene with her green eyes, as if she knew the secret herself.
Maja was a girl who was afraid of the dark. Every night, when her mom turned off the light, Maja would dive under the blanket and wait for morning. But there was a peculiar old lady living on her street — Aunt Margareta — who had the most beautiful garden in the whole town. The problem was Aunt Margareta never worked in her garden during the day. Never. Neighbors whispered about it. "We saw her digging at midnight." "Planting flowers at three in the morning." "Watering roses under the stars." Everyone thought she was strange. One night, when Maja woke up at three a.m. and couldn't sleep from fear, she looked out the window. She saw Mrs. Margareta kneeling in her garden, hands in the soil, and — singing. The next morning, Maja knocked on her door. "Mrs. Rose, why do you work in the garden only at night?" The old lady looked at her with warm eyes and said, "Because at night, plants do something miraculous that people don't know. And when I show you, you'll never be afraid of the dark again."
Little Maja ran to her grandpa Otto's workshop every day after school. She loved watching his skilled hands turn pieces of wood into beautiful, functional objects. One rainy afternoon, as the rain drummed on the tin roof of the workshop, Maja noticed something intriguing. Otto was sitting in his chair, with Jole, their loyal dog, lying on the floor beside him, while Loli, their cat, sat on the window sill, observing the outside world. “Grandpa Otto,” Maja asked, “can you tell me a story?” Otto smiled, wiped his hands on his apron, and sat down beside her. “Of course, Maja. Do you know the story of the old potter and his cracked pot?” Maja raised her eyebrows curiously, and Otto continued...
