Dog

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


We lived in Sevastopol, Ukraine SSR. When I was in the ninth grade, my father returned from a trip from Moscow with a puppy. He said that he bought a puppy from a government member, M. Bulganin. He did not see the marshal himself, but he bought the puppy through his adjutant. It was a boxer breed female. She had more documents than me. According to canine laws, she had to be given a name with the letter "M", so I came up with the name Malta.


The dog grew up quickly and was surprisingly smart. Apparently, to please me, she mastered simple commands: sit, lie, paw, bark and play dead. I simply did not know anything else. We ran and played with mutual enjoyment. It is unlikely that she considered me as a master but, likely, more of an older brother. If my mother scolded me, she stood between us and barked loudly, restoring peace in the house. One day my mother wanted to slap me with a broom. A yellow lightning flashed, and we saw a dog wagging its tail with a broom in its teeth. She also did not consider my father to be her master - he was always away due to his military service and rarely saw her. He was just another member of the family for her. The mother was the hostess, she cooked some soups for her and fed her. Dry food in those days did not exist in our country.


 I graduated from high school and went to study in another city.


 In October, my mother died in a traffic accident in Simferopol. We buried her there. The dog never found out about her death. My father was transferred to serve in Feodosia, he relinquished his military apartment and gave the dog away to some military man.


 I came to Sevastopol next summer to see my classmates. One time, while walking around the city, I suddenly felt that the people around me were tense. I looked in the direction where everyone else was looking, I saw that from the opposite side of the street a huge dog was rushing towards us, and a leash stretched behind it. The dog rushed to me, jumped around, trying to lick my face and, with joy, even peed a little. I squatted down, we hugged, I kissed and stroked the dog, she licked me. Passers-by began to recover, the dog began to calm down. A man came up and asked: “Are you the son of Colonel Lecker?”


 I nodded yes.


 Then everything is clear. I have a request for you help me take the dog home. She will not go with me.


  We went, the dog walked at my left and looked at me faithfully. We entered the apartment, Malta understood everything, licked my hand and laid on her bed.


Submitted: November 16, 2019

© Copyright 2021 Eduard Lecker. All rights reserved.

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