found exactly the right entrance to the hole, and began to recklessly dig. I soon got tired of looking at him, especially since the dog was already half gone underground. Without worrying in the least about the dog - Karay always found me - I went on, but then I soon came across a mushroom clearing and, forgetting everything in the world, began to peel out from under the moss the barely visible velvety-brown caps of porcini mushrooms. Looking around, I crawled on my knees, found a mushroom, admired it for a long time, then cut it off with regret and turned my head again, looking for the next one, because whites usually grow up in large families. I took about thirty mushrooms here, and everything was like a selection of strong men and a little more than a thimble. I imagined how appetizing they would look marinated in a rolled up half-liter jar.

Hearing a strange squeal, at first I did not even think it was Karay. My courageous dog has never made such gentle, affectionate squeals. It was something new. I went to a squeal and saw something that you wouldn’t believe right away: Karai lay down on his side near a pile of uprooted earth, scattering all four thick paws to the sides, and carefully licking three very small fox cubs, which he carefully pulled out of the ruined hole. I was amazed - in front of my eyes two powerful instincts clashed in the dog: animal hunting - and humane parental! Finding a hole, Karai acted like a hunter: he began to tear it. Having stumbled upon helpless fox cubs, he suppressed the hunting instinct in himself and behaved with them like a mother. The bristling animals snorted, bared their milk teeth, pinched him, but Karai selflessly looked after them, turned them over with his nose, licked his bare bellies, even began to jealously protect me from me when I bent down to the cubs.

It took a lot of work for me to lead him away from the hole. Probably, hiding somewhere nearby, the mother fox was exhausted from fear for her offspring. Karay looked either at the trembling foxes huddled together, then at me, offering to take them with him. Seeing that I was standing motionless, he carefully took one in his mouth, intending to take it with him, but immediately left and grabbed the second. At the same time, he squealed, and in this squealing, notes completely unfamiliar to me sounded. Yes, Karai loved everything young, helpless and was ready to lay down his head, protecting the weak with his chest.

After this incident, as soon as we came to that forest, Karay went away for a long time. And I never held him back, because I knew where he rushed - all to the same hole. But I also knew that the mother fox had long ago dragged her young to a safer lair. So in vain did my dog ​​squeal plaintively and invitingly at the ruined hole, calling out little animals from there.

8
The village guys loved Karay and, passing by our house, often called him outside to play. He never refused. Since the gate was on a latch, which he could not reach in any way (although he tried more than once with his paw move the latch), Karay jumped onto the wooden frame of the well, from there he beckoned to the territory of the dining room - the gates are always open there - and ran out into the street. I looked through my fingers at these things: the village is not a city - even though here the dog feels free.

Imagine my surprise when the chairman of the village council, meeting me on the street, complained that Karai was engaged in real robbery every morning: he stood near our house in the middle of the road and took away their legitimate breakfasts from the kids hurrying to school! When I doubted this, the chairman called me a woman who came to the village council and complained about the dog that he was taking away her son's school breakfast for several times.

I decided to follow the actions of Karai. In the morning I took the most advantageous position at the window of my room and began to observe the road that passed under our windows. The first schoolchildren reached out, but Karai was still inactive: he was lying on the porch and yawning, squinting from the bright morning sun. But four boys and one girl stopped in front of our house. After conferring, they approached the gate and, pressing their noses against the fence, called Karay in a low voice. He seemed to be waiting for this: he quickly jumped to his feet, jumped onto the log cabin of the well and, clinking an empty bucket, found himself on the territory of the dining room.

Sitting at the fence, the guys began to stroke Karay, someone took food out of the briefcase and began to treat the dog. He didn't refuse. He grabbed a treat and swallowed it with pleasure. There was no question of any robbery! But when I was ready to leave my observation post, I saw another boy, about nine years old. He did not approach the company, but, pressing his briefcase to his chest, he made his way sideways along the opposite fence. It was felt that this boy was very preoccupied and did not expect anything good from meeting his classmates. And so it happened: the boys began to point fingers at him and tell Karay: “Take him, Karay! Take it! My dog ​​- obviously in gratitude for the treat - resolutely went to the boy. And although he looked rather serious, he did not growl or bark (besides, I knew my dog ​​well: he would never touch a child). However, the schoolboy clung to the fence in horror and began to feverishly open the lock of his briefcase. Apparently, his fingers did not obey - he was nervous and, most surprisingly, he smiled ingratiatingly, although his eyes warily watched the approaching Karai. No animal likes to be feared, and this boy was clearly a coward, although he tried his best to hide it from his friends, and maybe enemies: even if people do not have a canine instinct, cowards are also quickly recognized and do not like. The little boy pulled out a package from his briefcase and, without unfolding the paper, threw it in front of Karay, who busily sniffed the treat and, taking it in his teeth, retired to deal with it in detail somewhere on the grass.

I went out onto the tiny balcony and, assuming a sternness, although it was funny myself, advised the guys not to do such things anymore. The boys were embarrassed, someone said that Vovka Mosin is a coward and is afraid of Karai, but he does not bite anyone. Another added that Vovka is a greedy man, you can’t beg him for snow in winter, but he gives Karay all his breakfast. Laughing and picking up their briefcases, the guys ran off to school. And the frustrated Vovka, throwing a quick glance at me from under his brows and looking warily at Karai, trudged after them - alone, keeping a decent distance ...

9
It happened in August 1973. Potatoes have already blossomed in the vegetable gardens, the green arrows of the onion have withered, fruits were pouring on the apple trees. The days were hot, only in the evening coolness came along with scattered flocks of mosquitoes. This year in our area there was dry land, forests and peat bogs were burning. Sometimes for several days in a row, from somewhere, a bitter burnt smell was drawn. Accustomed to the clean air, the swifts climbed into the cool blue heights, turning into tiny black crosses. In the mornings, gloomy crows flew to the roof of a neighboring house and, lazily walking along the mossy shingles, croaked gloomily.

I was chiseling a birch burl in the yard with a chisel, hoping that it would make a decent vase. This is the second year I have been fond of this interesting business, but I have not yet achieved great success. Working with a flexible tree gave me pleasure. This activity was especially pleasant after a long sitting at a typewriter. A talkative neighbor - she got water from the well - told the latest village news: her tipsy husband, head of the club, climbed into the room at night and launched the radiogram at full power - woke up almost the entire village (I must admit, I did not hear anything); At Vasilyeva's, someone climbed into the rabbitry and released all the rabbits - she is now running around the gardens, catching her pets. IN In the course of all these messages, one thing flashed, which alerted me: a neighbor dropped that early in the morning a pack of dogs trampled down Zimina's entire garden - the potatoes were still okay, but the tomatoes and cucumbers were damaged. She even ran to the village council to complain.

I remembered that for the second day I had rarely seen Karai in the yard. In the evening, he appeared all disheveled, with his tongue hanging out, quickly lapped from his aluminum cup and climbed into the shade, not even paying attention to the fact that his cup was attacked by sparrows - he usually got up and drove them away, but here he did not turn his head. Clearly, another bride appeared among the village dogs, and all the dogs lost their heads.

Putting down the chisel,