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7:00 AM
The moment Andrey opened his eyes, he knew something was off.
He tried to stretch, then realized he stretched much further than usual. He snapped his eyes widely and saw a pair of white paws. His ears were twitching, but not from where they were supposed to be.
Instinctively, he touched his face and felt a thick layer of soft fur. He reached backward and, to his shock, easily touched the fur on the back. He flailed under the blanket, nearly biting his own tail in his panic.
He rushed to the mirror and saw a cat. A long-haired white cat with blue eyes.
This can’t be real. He screamed out loud like a cat see the cucumber.
There were only four hours left before his match. He had no idea what to do.
He opened his mouth trying to speak, but all that came out was a “meow.”
With fur puffed up in alarm, he anxiously paced back and forth, his ears pinned back, tail lashing uncontrollably.
“This has to be a dream!” He tried slapping himself. The feel of a paw pad against fuzzy fur was far too real. If this was a dream, it was way too convincing.
He attempted to call his coach. Fortunately, his paw could trigger the touch screen, but the keypad on the phone was too tiny. He missed several times and ended up locking it.
“Aaagh!” He swiped the phone off the table with the paw.
A knock came at the door.
“Andrey, let’s grab breakfast.” said the physiotherapist from outside.
Andrey ran to the door, jumped and managed to pull the handle down.
That’s unique -He’d never felt this kind of bounce before. If he could jump this high as a human, his net point would be cool than Monfils.
The physiotherapist opened the door and froze at the sight of the cat—cute but clearly annoyed.
“Who are you?” He reached out to pet it. The cat circled him meowing. He picked it up and placed it aside.
“Andrey?” He peeked into the room. “When did you get a cat?”
“Meow!” Andrey tried to say “I’m right here!” but it was not working
The physiotherapist looked around the room—no sign of Andrey. So, who opened the door?
“That’s weird.”
“Meow meow!” The cat meowed persistently.
The physio scooped him up again and stared into his eyes.
It drove Andrey crazy. How could he explain he was actually Andrey? That he’d somehow turned into a cat?
He ran out of the coach’s arms and went to the iPad on the bed. He tapped the screen with a paw.
“Hey, don’t—” the physio tried to stop the cat.
Then he saw the cat clumsily typing the password. He blinked and rubbed his eyes twice to sure he was not in dream?
Andrey finally entered the password and swiped around, managed opening the note and typed in:
“I am Andrey.”
The physio’s jaw almost dropped on the ground
“This... how is this possible?”
Andrey had same question, and he didn’t know if physio was shocked by the fact a cat could type, or by the idea of a person turning into a cat.
“I—I’m going to get the coach,” he stammered and rushed out of the room.
Andrey rolled his eyes on the couch and flopped onto his side.
Being a cat felt weird. He could jump higher, and his body was way more flexible. It would be amazing to play tennis if he had this kind of mobility as a human.
7:30 AM
By the time the coach rushed in, Andrey was nearly failed in sleep on the bed.
He stretched and jump up to open the door again.
“Meow.” Not that the coach could tell the difference between this meow and the other ones, but he figured it could be a greeting.
The coach stepped inside, still looking skeptical, followed by the horrified-looking physio.
“Andrey?”
“Meow.”
“Who am I?” The coach asked, then immediately realized that the cat cannot tell. “Am I your coach? Yes or no?”
Andrey placed a paw on the coach’s hand indicated yes, but was clearly annoyed. he was running out of patience. Time was tight. If he didn’t return to human form, what would happen to today’s match?
He trotted back to the iPad and light up the screen again.
Damn these paws were hard to use.
He painstakingly typed a sentence: “Woke up like this. How about today’s match?”
“We’ll have to withdraw,” said by the coach. “There’s not much time left, and we have no idea when or how you’ll turn back.”
“What do we tell then? We can’t exactly say ‘Andrey turned into a cat, we need pull out of the match’” the physio pointed out, the same question Andrey also want to ask.
The coach pondered a bit.
“Medical reasons...?”
“Meow!” Andrey protested immediately.
“But for that, we need a doctor’s note...” The coach glanced down at Andrey, who was all puffed up and clearly not happy.
For sure Andrey was not a like the idea to tell doctor.
“Can we tell Daniil” Coach added, “It’s doubles later, right? Maybe Daniil can call to pull out.”
Honestly, not a bad plan—assuming Daniil was still human. It wasn’t ideal, but at least better than trying to explain things to a doctor.
Most players on tour have injuries, they just live with it. A doctor’s note probably wouldn’t be too hard to get.
Andrey didn’t want Daniil to know about this mess, Daniil would laugh so hard of this, but he couldn’t think of a better option.
8:00 AM
After a bit of back and forth in details, they decided to go with the coach’s plan and directly called Daniil in.
When Daniil heard the full story, he took it surprisingly well.
He walked in the room and picked Andrey up, inspecting him from all angles, then set him on the couch.
“How do you know this is Andrey?”
The physio brought the iPad and opened the keyboard, pushing it toward Andrey.
Andrey pressed his paw on it and typed:
“O-C-T-O…”
“Okay, that’s Andrey.” Daniil agreed, then turned to Andrey. “Honestly, I thought you’d turn into a golden monkey or something.”
Andrey hissed and try to slap him with the paw, but Daniil casually caught him mid-air, flipped him over and started scratching his belly like he was just a fluffy toy..
Not going to lie—it felt pretty good.
Andrey let out a low, grumpy “Meow” in protest—even as he kept lying there, clearly enjoying the belly rub.
“Whoa, watch the language,” Daniil chuckled, ruffling his head. “So how does it feel to be a cat?”
Andrey had a lot to say, but when he put the paws on the screen after fumbling with a few letters, he gave up.
Daniil peeked over.
Andrey wrote: “I dont kno...”
8:30 AM
Daniil stayed with him for about half hour then left to handle the withdrawal paperwork.
Before heading out, he said, “Karen’s gonna love this. I’m going to tell him.”
He ignored Andrey’s protest and kindly left the door slightly ajar.
“I figured it’s hard for you to jump up and open it every time... I’ll leave a gap.”
Andrey gave a sharp “Meow!” and stomped over to shut the door, which is not easy as a cat.
9:00 AM
When Karen arrived, Andrey was just sprawled out by the window, baking in the sun like a normal cat.
Technically, he should’ve been stressed out—he couldn’t play, didn’t know when he’d be human again. But strangely, in this body, he felt calm. If he relaxed, his eyes started to drift shut easily.
Outside, players passed the road. He spotted several familiar faces—some even waved to him.
Of course, they were just saying hi to a cat.
Karen, like the others, rang the doorbell. Andrey opened the door with the jump.
Door opened, they looked at each other for a second, both awkward.
“Andrey?”
Andrey gave a meow as confirmation and backed inside, hopping onto the couch.
Karen crouched down and stared at the cat for a long while.
“You know, you really do look like him.”
Andrey meowed again. Swearing didn’t count if no one understood it.
Karen slowly sat down on the couch, hands on his knees, bit nervous, clearly unsure what to do.
“Do you know when you’ll turn back?”
Andrey tucked his paws in and shook his head. He has no idea.
Karen also didn’t know how to help.
“I’ve got no matches today. Just a interview at 11. I can stick around.”
He figured Andrey probably couldn’t do a lot of things in this state, and thought maybe staying around would be helpful.
“Meow.” Andrey appreciated and climbed onto his lap and settled in.
“Are you hungry? Do you want… cat food or real food?” Karen wasn’t sure which was appropriate.
Andrey didn’t answer. His eyes slowly closed.
And he drifted into sleep.
1:00 PM
The summer sun was harsh and bright, casting long shadows from the trees across the road.
When Andrey woke up, his whole body ached—like he’d just played five sets game.
He opened his eyes. He still on the couch with a cushion under his head.
He stretched. As his fingers touched the edge of the sofa, he fully awaked.
Its fingers. Not paws.
He sat up and looked down at himself—T-shirt, shorts, familiar hands, the old scar on his knuckle, the calluses in his palm.
He reached for his face—no fur, just beard. Ears also back where they belonged.
He was human again.
He sat there in shock, not sure whether the whole thing had been a dream.
Though, honestly... he already kind of missed being fluffy.
He grabbed his phone and laid back on the couch, thumbs flying, he typed a quick text to Daniil: “You’re not gonna believe this…”