“On a moonlit night”

In a village, there was a five-year-old boy named Anton. Anton was always up to mischief every day. One morning, when Anton’s mother went to fetch water, she found a round hole in the roof of the well. “Anton, you climbed the well again,” said his mother, furious. In the field, Anton’s father noticed that a wheel was missing when he tried to plow the field. “That kid did it again,” said his father, angry. Another day, the entrance to the chicken coop was left open, and a ladder was propped against it. “Anton, really,” exclaimed his mother and father, both furious. “Anton! No more pranks,” scolded his mother, but he never listened. Every time Anton was scolded, he would stroke the head of the white cat he owned. “Cats are lucky. They don’t get scolded even if they misbehave. I only have one dream I want to fulfill. You go off to play somewhere every day,” Anton complained. Then, the white cat said, “Meow.” That night, as Anton lay in bed, half asleep, the white cat jumped onto his bed. And suddenly, it began to speak. “Anton, I’m about to spend a special night. Do you want to come along? I’ll show you the world of cats.” Anton was astonished. “The cat… it spoke.” The white cat replied, “Come on, let’s go.” In the next moment, Anton’s body became small, and he grew fluffy fur on his hands and feet. Anton quickly got out of bed and looked in the mirror. “Whoa! I transformed into a cat!” That’s right, Anton had turned into a cat. His body was gray, his eyes were yellow, and his long tail moved gracefully. The white cat left Anton’s room, and Anton hurriedly followed. “It’s amazing how cats can walk on their hands and feet,” Anton marveled. Anton found that he could walk more skillfully than he thought. The white cat jumped onto the kitchen windowsill and opened the window with its head. Then it glanced back at Anton, wearing a face that seemed to be beckoning him, and leaped outside through the window. “Wait for me!” To a five-year-old boy, the jump was somewhat scary. But now Anton wasn’t a boy anymore; he was a gray cat. “Jump!” Anton gathered courage, closed his eyes, and with a leap, his body floated in the air, landing on the ground as if he were flying. He wasn’t hurt anywhere; it seemed he was unharmed. The white cat walked briskly. It gracefully avoided the thorny roses in the garden and sat down in front of the blueberry tree Anton’s mother was tending. When Anton caught up to the white cat, it said, “Let’s have a meal first.” The white cat took a plump blueberry and bit into it. “We might get scolded again.” “Don’t worry, they won’t notice if we take a little,” the white cat smirked. Anton didn’t like sour blueberries, but the white cat took one for Anton and offered it to him. Anton cautiously took a bite. To his surprise, a sweet syrup flowed out. “It’s delicious.” “I told you so,” the white cat said with a mischievous smile. The white cat continued walking. Next, they arrived at the olive tree next door. “Anton, I’ll grant your wish now. It’s a special night, after all,” said the white cat. Anton felt mysterious. “My wish?” “Yeah, that’s right.” Saying so