grief, whose wife, say, died - she did not go to another, prudently exchanging an apartment, namely, she rested in a bose). But I know the price of these martyr sighs! Karay wants to go outside, but, being a delicate dog, he doesn’t bother me, doesn’t come up and put his paw on his knee - they say, get up, friend, it’s time for a walk, and rain is nonsense: no sugar, we won’t melt! He sees that I am working and should not be disturbed. But you can sigh - even with a slight moan and a cautious chatter of teeth with a magnificent bite, which I have always been so proud of.

Naturally, such sighs, if they follow one after another, and the dead will be raised from the grave. “Damn dog,” I mutter, getting up from the table. “Because of you, I missed the thought ... Now drag yourself into the slush and rain ...”

As always, he immediately caught my mood and behaves accordingly. Usually, when I take him for a walk, he takes off, barks, jumps around, and here he sits silently on the mat and stares in bewilderment at me: they say, what, the owner, got up? I would work and work. And I - what? I'll wait…

I see that he, the bastard, is cunning, and, not holding back a smile, I wave my hand: okay, let's go! And then he betrays himself with his head. Barsom jumps on me, hitting my chest with his front paws and trying to lick my face, gutturally, restraining himself (he knows that barking is not supposed to be in a communal apartment), muttering something in his dog language, spinning like a weed, it even happens from an excess of feelings may drip on the parquet floor.

Karay is the first to descend the worn stone steps from the second floor. He never jumps out into the street (our house stands on the corner of Baskov lane and Vosstaniya street) - he knows that it is crowded and unsafe - he turns sharply to another exit, into the courtyard, and, opening the brown door with his nose, disappears there. When it rains, no one is visible in the yard - and Karai, clinging to the stone foundation, freezes for a long time in the blissful pose of a dog that has sat in the apartment for a long time: one leg is upturned, its head is lowered and turned in my direction. He is motionless, like a monument, only a lively, restless look hurriedly glides across the yard. The city dog ​​knows that at any moment a janitor with a broom and a shovel may appear - and then even a beloved owner will not protect him from unfair punishment. But the dog must eventually pee somewhere! Dogs do not understand the rules and instructions: having escaped from the apartment, they are looking for the first post or tree that comes across; in the absence of such, they attach themselves where necessary, and on the muzzle of another dog at a critical moment such an unfortunate expression is immediately clear: he feels like the last criminal. I'm not talking about a big dog need. Some dog owners who live in the center carry a shabby golik and a scoop with them in order to immediately eliminate traces of the dog's "crime".

The low cloudy-gray sky descended on the wet, shiny roofs. Ragged wisps of smoke rather than clouds cling to the slingshots of television antennas. From the noisy drainpipes, trickles splash merrily. A rare passer-by, pulling his head into his shoulders, hurriedly rustles past in a raincoat. Karay trotted ahead, burying his nose in the pavement. For some reason, his lean ass always drifts a little to the side. Karay reminds me of a heavy truck with a trailer slowly crawling along the highway. Triangular, overgrown with soft golden curly hair, the dog's ears flap on the go, brown his beard is stuck together and curls up comically, like a deacon's from some old movie. Sometimes he stops in his tracks, carefully sniffs the thin black trunk of a stunted tree or the gray bumpy stone of the foundation, and, stamping his feet in place, busily leaves his mark. At the same time, he looks like he is engaged in an extremely important business. Now he does not pay attention to me - he hardly remembers that I am nearby. Huddling in a raincoat in the cold wind and licking raindrops from cold lips, I trudge after him. Light rain slashes across the face, flows down the collar. A leash jingles in my hand. I rarely take Karay on a leash - he doesn't like that. And then he will never bark in vain, he will not become attached. This shows his breed, upbringing. Without my tacit consent, he will not even approach the oncoming dog, although I understand what kind of work it costs him.

Karay runs along the sidewalk, clinging to the houses - this is also a habit of a city dog: after all, in a big noisy city it won't take long to get hit by a car! - and pays no attention to anyone. Passers-by do not exist for him. They have their concerns, he has his. Is it up to passersby here if the poor dog is only three times a day given half an hour for a walk. This is when the weather is good, but today in the rain I, perhaps, can’t stand fifteen minutes. And Karay knows this, and therefore he is in a hurry to do all his business as quickly as possible - so to speak, to spend the time allotted to him properly. I often catch his pleading-questioning look: “Well, a little more, huh? Let's take a walk to that corner - and go home? ... ”I nod, and he, shaking his head gratefully several times, rushes forward joyfully. He does not notice the rain. And then, he is not wearing a light raincoat, but a warm fur coat.

I'm walking on a slippery sidewalk, and various thoughts about "our smaller brothers" overcome me.

It's great to have a dog. Especially one so weird. Moreover, to a large extent it depends on you what she will become, living next to you. From a stupid, hectic puppy, a beautiful, intelligent dog grows before your eyes, which becomes a full member of your family. Yes, it cannot be otherwise: after all, he is always next to you - day and night. In rural areas, the dog is treated differently: it either hunts or guards the house. She does not live in an apartment, but in the yard, and most often, in order to be angrier, she sits on a chain. Country dog ​​perfectly feels the distance between themselves and the owner - behaves accordingly. With the city, the situation is different. Whether the owner wants it or not, the dog knows all his weaknesses and shortcomings - and not only the owner, but also his relatives. From everyday communication with a person, the dog acquires skills and habits that are not at all characteristic of a rural dog.

It is often said: what, they say, is the owner, such is the dog. And one more thing: that a dog almost always looks like its owner or mistress. Which of us has not observed the owner and the dog thoughtfully walking along the sidewalk! One glance is enough to determine that they have been living together for more than one year. And indeed, sometimes the dog is somewhat reminiscent of its owner - if not in appearance, then at least in some external character traits: either by walking, or by the habit of looking at passers-by ... By the way, this is a favorite topic of cartoonists. And the artists are sharp-sighted people, they were the first to notice such an amazing resemblance!

Almost thirteen years we stayed with Karay together. Over the years, thanks to him, I met dozens of interesting people who were spontaneously given the name "dog lovers" (however, no one is offended by this), and with full responsibility I can say that a dog not only gets along with any person, good or bad, but and gradually takes on the features of his character. And what about us, people?... So the family broke up, and they say: they say, the husband and wife did not get along in character, did not suit each other... Is it not surprising that the king of nature, the pinnacle of intellect - a person is often unable to understand even a loved one, cannot find does he have a common language with him? ... A dog deprived of speech “converges in character”, gets along great with any person and understands him perfectly. An unkind person, closed - and the dog is the same. Enter the apartment of such a person, and the dog will rush at you with a growl, barely restrained by the owner. You can’t caress such a dog, you can’t stroke it - you will bypass it. Yes, and they are taken out for a walk in muzzles ... And vice versa, a sociable person has a cheerful, cheerful dog. Hearing the bell, he is the first to rush to greet the guests, and his joy is stormy, sincere ... The person is a poet, lyricist, loves to dream, philosophize. And the four-legged friend does not lag behind him - the same absent-minded, thoughtful. On a moonlit night, when the owner counts the stars in the sky, whispering the lines of a poem, the dog