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. . .