Click to listen highlighted text!

                                   You’re sitting at the table. . .         It is holiday. .

                                   You have fun. . .     probably. . .       and a lot of food.

                                   The house is warm and lights are on. . .

                                   It is New Year. . .

                                   For You. . .  .

 

                    It is dark. . .   , the wind blows through the hole and stirs the fur. . .

       If you put your nose under your paw and close your eyes. . .

 

                                  You can see. . .          Not always. . .

                                  . . . if it doesn’t blow with cold strongly and doesn’t confuse the thought. . .

                                  Then I see Her. . .         and I don’t want anything else. . .

                                  To see Her a little more. . .

                                  I don’t know who She is to me. . .        I do not remember. . .

                                  I know that she is the dearest. . .       and that’s it. . .    .

 

 

                                  The thoughts fade and I fall into blackness. .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the Chain (Tobik

 

 

Tobik is a boy. Actually, he was supposed to be my brother.

But he was killed…

 

No, …     not so…

 

Tobik is a dog.      In the courtyard. . .      on a chain. . .      .

 

 

He should have been born to his mother. . .   .    By first. . .      It was failed. .

He was killed immediately after conception.

So he settled in a puppy. .       To be close to his mother. . 

The one who gave birth to me later. . .      Second. .

 

I’m not telling you very clearly?  . . .

Okay. . .       I will start again.

 

 

                                                                         . . .

 

 

You obviously know that when one is killed, the soul falls apart. . .

 

Why are you silent? . . . 

Do you know or what? . . .

What wasn’t said? . . .     .   Everyone was told. . .

 

You didn’t believe it?  Did not hear . . .

 

I can’t tell you everything again. . .

Then guess. . .      By yourself. .

 

The part of the soul that cannot rise must find some body. . .     So that there is a channel to this world. . .      Where it went. .     .

So the puppy was that body. .    .

 

 

                                                                         . . .

 

He was brought very small, a white fluffy ball with funny eyes. . .

He kept playing. . .     .  He was named Tobik.

Then. . .   ,   when he was a little older, they put him on a chain, firmly nailed with large nails to the kennel – his home for the rest of his life. . .      until his death. .

The collar was changed when he grew up, . . .     and the chain remained. . .        until the end. .

 

I remember him like this – thick dirty white fur in strands, kind dark eyes,     a chain. . .  , the collar and the matted fur under it. . .  , the bowl is empty near the kennel. . .    .

 

I almost never petted him or played with him. . .     I don’t know why. . .     .

 

Now I would say that it is shameful and humiliating for both, to pet a slave and a friend tied with a chain. . .    .

Back then I could not have such thoughts, of course. . .     .

He loved his mother. .    He heard her footsteps from afar. . .       He ran out of the booth. . . rushed to her, pulling the chain with all his strength and only the collar squeezing the throat did not allow to be even closer. . .    .

She passed by without touching him, so that he doesn’t get his dirty paws on her. . .

She was saying: “… Now, now I’ll bring you food. . .”.          As if he was so eager for food. . .     .

 

Then she went out, took his dirty bowl and took it into the house. . .    .

She put some leftovers, the remains of yesterday’s soup, diluted with boiling water, . . .    sometimes a bone with the remains of cartilage. . .    .

She wasn’t greedy – it was just the years after the war. . .          at first. . .     .

Then they did not feed better. . .    . They thought that the dog would have enough. . .    .

 

I was growing up, and Tobik was getting old. . .      I almost never come near him. . .     I don’t even remember bringing him anything to eat. . .     a bone or something. . .    .

 

He was almost always lying in the kennel. . .   .   Sometimes near it. . .    .

I don’t remember anything else. . .     Only dark eyes. . .   , black nose. . .   , dirty-white with yellow fur, matted with lumps in some places. . .    .

In his entire life, he was never allowed to even run. . .  without a chain. . .  , at least in the yard. . .   .       There. . .    over the fence, where the other dogs are, it’s better not to think about it. .

He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep. .

 

So he grew old. . .    got worse. . .   , dirty fur in shreds. . .    .

When the shreds fell off, the wind rolled them around the yard for a long time.

My parents felt sorry for him. . .    .  They wanted him not to suffer and die faster. . .    .

But he still didn’t die. .

Then they decided to give him some poison, putting it in the food. . .    .

He just threw up and lay still for a long time. . .     Dirty, mangy. . .   

And on a chain. . .     .

 

My father scraped the vomit off the ground with a shovel and threw it behind the kennel. . .     I mean, behind his house. . .   .

 

 

 

I saw it all, of course. . .    But I didn’t care. . .     .

I passed by and that’s it. . .     .

Did I feel sorry? . . .    I do not remember. . .     It is unlikely.

 

I don’t know what my father thought.     What do you think when you tried to poison someone and he didn’t die? 

I guess he just wanted to get it over with. .

He brought a rifle from work, back then he also taught military science, and he had different weapons there. . .     .

 

My mother and I weren’t home when he shot Tobik. . .         He dragged him out of the kennel by the chain and put his foot on it so he couldn’t get back in. . .       .

And he did not try knowing why he was aiming at him. . .  , just was looking with teary dark eyes into the eyes of my father. . .      .

 

                                                                     . . .

 

My father fired three shots . . .     to make sure he was dead.      There wasn’t much blood.

 

My father buried him, and then shoveled away what was left on the ground. . .      .

When I returned, the kennel was empty. . .       Just a chain without a collar.

 

 

In this life, he was also killed. First poisoned, and then killed. . .    .

 

                                                                     . . .

 

That is what These decided back then, . . .   long ago. . .  , that my brother should be a guard and serve them. . .    .

That his home will be a kennel and there will be a chain around his neck. That he could never love anyone.

And he did. . . even on a chain. . .     .

 

He never became what they wanted him to be. . .     .

That’s what they always killed him for. . .     .

In all lives. Like a dog. . 

 

 

                                                                     . . .

 

Wolves hate dogs.

For serving and helping those the wolves hate.

 

Why do they hate you? . . .      And why should they love?

 

Dogs want to be friends, even on a chain, just to be close. . .    .

They want to serve those they love. . .     Until the end. . .                   If only they would not betray. . .      .

And they betray. . .     Again and again. . .     .

 

                                                                     . . .

 

None of ours wants to serve you. .    You don’t know how to value loyalty. .

 

Dogs the only ones who hope every time. . .

Because they don’t remember their past lives. .

 

I don’t think they remember. . .

 

 

Click to listen highlighted text!