Volchok, translation from Russian, А. Кременский

                VOLCHOK
      This dog’s name was Volchok – approximately 3-4 year-old pooch of cream color, somewhat very soft, fluffy, gentle and, like most pooches, extremely clever.
    Volchok always followed me – to the pasture, where military horses were feeding, to Oskol, to the Market square .
    Once, on Sunday I went to the market together with my friends – twin- brothers Alyoshka and Mishka. We walked among the cartloads, listened to the Ukrainian speech, unusual for our urban ear, spoken by “the Dyadki”, who came from the near villages; scrutinized the horses, hens, geese and ducks, clay pots, covered with the bright artless patterns – in fact, everything that since long times was brought to our Kuransk for the Sunday bargain. It was July. Strawberries have already gone. The time of watermelons and melons approached.   But they were still few. Only 3-4 “Dyadki” brought them and charged very expensive; the buyers bargained, sighing, went further.
    As usual, we had not a coin, and to taste the first water melon is the dream of every boy.
   Volchok followed me, without a step legging behind, afraid to get lost in the dense crowd – the more so, that once or twice somebody pushed him with a boot, just for fun. Volchok was cuddling up to me, I felt the touch of his fluffy body against my bare calves. Sometimes he licked my foot, looking devotedly at me with his bright, coal-black merry eyes. And suddenly I heard:
– Eh, boy!
    All three of us turned – it was unknown, whom of us the elderly unknown “dyadko” was calling.  He was sitting on the cartload with a mountain of early striped watermelons.  We all came up.
– Whose dog is it?
– Mine, –  I said. – And what?
Plump, purple-faced “dyadko” with a bushy, oily- shone beard, as if cleaned with blacking, was looking at Volchok. He seemed to like the dog very much.
– Sell it!
– He is not sold, – I said proudly.
 “Dyadko” seemed surprised:
– How is that? Everything in the world is sold.
– No, – I said, – He is my favorite dog. It can’t be sold.
– But you may find the other one. There is a lot of dogs in your town in the streets. And my dog has died, I want to buy a new one. If you don’t want the money, let us exchange him for “kavuni”.
“Dyadko” proposed  watermelons! I saw – Mishka and Alyoshka looked at me with a plea: – In no time such happiness has turned up – to taste the early watermelons.
– Tolka, and may be really, – Mishka, braver of the two, began, but kept silent at once – afraid to continue. And I wavered. I was possessed with obscuration. Unexpectedly for myself I asked:
– And how many will you give?
– Three.
– Three is is not enough – Mishka said sternly. –Five!
– Ege! Five! – “dyadko” said ironically. – For five, you know what dog I can exchange for them? And yours –what? He, probably, can only bark, and no fear from him. Is he at least baleful?
– He is gentle, – I said.
– Well, that’s nothing. He’ll become baleful after sitting on the chain, hungry.
I can’t understand, how hearing all that, I didn’t  immediately turn and went away. No, I was standing, thinking…
– All tight, four watermelons, – Mishka said in a business-like tone, – it’s impossible for three! – one  to each of us, my brother and myself, and two – to the master of the dog. Isn’t it a just price?
“Dyadko’ was thinking a minute, but, evidently, Mishka’s face expressed such an irresistible will, and it was he, who was bargaining, that ‘dyadko” waved his hand:
– All right! Let it be four. Only tie him up yourself – he won’t give in to me.
All the rest was, like in a mist: I took the rope, with one end tied it around Volchok’s neck – the other gave to “dyadko”. Volchok, not expecting the treachery, was sitting next to me, waving his tail. Meanwhile, Mishka was already choosing the watermelons, skillfully clicking against them, examined the tails – not to get the green ones. Finally, the watermelons were chosen. Brothers took one, each, I  –at once two.
– Let’s go! – Mishka said dryly. Probably, he was afraid that I might change my mind, but I followed him obediently, and at that moment we heard Volchok’s voice. I have never heard anything of the kind as to the expressiveness and despair. Volchok squealed, barked, howled –he implored me to return, but I, without turning back, followed the boys. And Volchok’s voice became lower and lower, then vanished, deafened by the hubbub of the market.
We walked silently.
Mother met me with an amazed look:
– Where are the watermelons from? Have you been presented with them?
– No, – I answered in a low voice. –It is for Volchok.
– How  – is it? Have you exchanged Volchok for them?
 I was silent. I began to understand already what had happened…
I heaped the watermelons in the kitchen. I couldn’t touch them, couldn’t look at them. I recollected Volchok’s  shining, merry, believing eyes, I heard his desperate whining. It was a cry of the despair.
    At dinner we spoke with mother little. She didn’t mention Volchok any more, as if he had never existed. But I was thinking only about him. I couldn’t imagine, how I would live without him. The thought of him tortured me, I didn’t sleep the whole night. And mother didn’t enter my room, didn’t try to console me – she left me to myself. I had to remain alone with my conscience.
    In the morning, as usual, the twins came after me – to go to the pasture – to graze the military horses with red army soldier Peter. Then – to go to Oscol.
– Tolka, let’s go! – Mishka’s voice sounded.
    I opened the window wide.
– Well, what’s the matter with you? – Mishka shouted impatiently. – Petro is already grazing.
– I will not go anywhere. There is no Volchok, and I don’t need anybody… My voice broke from the sobs. I rushed into the garden. The dogs, lying in the yard, ran up to me, but I snorted at them, and they frightfully recoiled. Still yesterday I didnt single out Volchok among them. Now he was the dearest of all, but the purple-faced “dyadko” carried him far away, carried forever… What am I to do? Dear God, what am I to do? I didn’t even ask the name of the village of that “dyadko”… Had I known, I would go on foot, would implore him on my knees to return Volchok to me, to return for any price, I would give him my new winter coat, felt boots, warm cap –– all that is now difficult to get , it costs much. He would sell and get much more, than those damned watermelons…
The long July day was slowly on. I went to sleep early – I wanted to run away into sleep, to hide the recollections, from the late repentance… I fell asleep unexpectedly quickly and slept very soundly, awoke already in the morning, it was quite early yet, about 5 o’clock, the sun was not high. I was awakened by the loud, happy barking. It was impossible not to recognize it. I jumped, rushed through the dining- room , through the kitchen, opened the door wide onto the porch. Volchok jumped on my chest. The long end of the gnawed rope was bolting from his neck. “Dyadko” didn’t carry him to his home . Laughing and crying, I grasped Volchok into my arms and carried him to the house. I was hiding my face, wet with happy tears in his fluffy wool, strongly smelled with the dog. I was kissing his muzzle, nose, eyes. Volchok tore himself away from my arms and began jumping around me – he was as happy, as myself. But the main thing was, that he didn’t remember evil, he forgave me.
  The door opened, mother came out.
Tolik, – she said. –Yesterday I threw the watermelons to the scrapheap.