True Friend Needs No Orders

Some recollections of my childhood and mó dog.
 
Chapter 1
Pop Visit
 
  Charlik came to us at the dead of autumn that very year when I was five and supposed that I was old enough to study. Why should I stay home? It’s time for school! Mom, without thinking twice, gave me a present of a school primer. I would tell you about this gift another time, though.
  So, one morning, when my Granny and I were at home alone, someone climbed up our porch. Granny went on drinking her tea, smacking her toothless mouth, sighing, and paid no notice to the intruder. I approached her and whispered:
‘Gran, oh, Gran! Do you here someone walking and making noise out there?’
Granny sipped her tea loudly from the saucer, looking up at me, and said:
‘It’s just wind.’
‘Can the wind growl?’
‘It can howl, love.’
Suddenly ‘the wind’ started roaring.
I was scared and crawled quickly under the bed to boggle there. But Granny rose fast, grabbed a rake and went to the terrace. I heard her fearlessly opening the door. ‘Such a brave Granny I have!’ I thought.
‘Mila, come on, get out and come along! Look, what a ‘pop visit’ we have here!’ she said in a loud voice.
  I left my ‘sanctuary’ and, having looked around the door pane, saw a tiny puppy, completely soaked, trembling from hunger and cold. He looked at me with his large grey eyes and whimpered from time to time. I approached Granny boldly.
‘Has he come to me? Let’s keep him!’
Granny loved dogs, but Mom forbade my brothers and me bringing home either kittens, or puppies. She loved order and cared for our health a lot. But Granny looked at the puppy and me and said: ‘Come on, Chaplin!’

Later I learned why she had called him such name. The puppy had a funny innocent muzzle, thin, crooked paws and a black spot under the nose, looking like moustache.
  Granny wiped puppy’s fur and muzzle with a piece of cloth, poured him some warm milk and added a small loaf of bread. The puppy had his meal, stretched, yawned and rested himself on the rug at the doorway. Granny was petting him and smiling and I was waiting patiently for the permission to play with him after his nap. I was sitting on the sofa among the cushions and had a chat in whisper with my dolls, also waiting for a new friend. While Granny was clicking her knitting needles making something and smiling, watching him above her spectacle frames.
Charlik soon lay beside Granny’s arm-chair and I was allowed to play with him. I remember him sniffing me moving his little nose and spitting funnily.
‘He likes you,’ Granny said. ‘Look how he spits! Dogs show affection this way. You’ll make great friends!’
And so we did...
 
First Stride
 
 A dog and a girl, whose life became much more exciting since then, became friends. Wherever I went, Charlik followed my steps, wagging his tail with joy. I wondered how it happened that he had been recently so small while I was big, but then the New Year came and he changed while I remained the same.
‘Why has he grown so fast?’ I asked Granny and got another answer each time. Once she said, that he had been eating porridge quickly and licking his bowl until is shined, and another time the answer was that he drinks cod-liver oil without disgust. And once the answer was the following:
‘He’s a dog, a true human friend. He hurries to grow up to help with the household, return favor and play with you without fear that you may hurt him.’
I was happy to get any answer and felt delighted and cozy hearing Granny’s words. I wanted to hug Charlik tight and bring to my room, as I used to do a couple of month before, pet him and dress in jackets and hats.
No way! Charlik resisted hard and did not let hug him. He would twist out of my arms and sprang, sticking his tongue out, wagging his tail like a huge feather, cheerfully and lively.
 Granny once told me a story, that Dog was the first animal that came to serve Human, swore allegiance and promised to help him hunting, defend from enemies and warm up from cold. I listened to her with great attention and wondered how Charlik and I would hunt together and after whom.
 Long-expected spring came and it became sunny and warm outside. The snow grew darker melting in the Sun, turning into puddles. Thaw holes shone up. Charlik and I decided to have a stride while Granny was busy and parents and brothers were out. I quickly put on my fashionable red rubber boots, a cap and a coat and we went to the river. Huge ice-plates we passing in a rush hitting one another with a loud crash, while the water did not bicker but roared, coming out through narrow holes under the ice, as if someone had opened a thousand of taps at a time.
 I was standing at the bank watching the roaring waters and could not take my eyes away. At least, I thought so.
The flow was so strong that if someone would like to sing, as I would sing from time to time, pretending myself a stage actress, no sound might be heard. But I thought I was singing wonderfully, because I was doing it very loudly. So loud I was, that Granny used to say:
- Azokhn vey! Af ale soynim guezukt!
And she used to smile, wiping her eyes watching me. Only later I found out that she used to say: “I really wish that all enemies would serve!’ However, I’ll tell you about my beloved Granny another time, and that moment my loyal friend and I went for a walk for the first time, so to say, we went ‘hunting’. 
So, the water roared and seethed. Suddenly a snow plate under my feet cracked so loud, as if someone hit it with a large axe from beneath. I failed to realize anything, but Charlik grabbed me with his teeth by the coat and dragged fiercely from the water. Having fallen on the hard snow, covered with black ice, and I hurt my cheek and both hands.
‘Are you crazy?!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t you see that a person is in deep thinking?! How dared you to grab me like this? I scratched my hands! And my cheek hurts!’
But Charlik just snarled in his doggish language, licking my face and making fuss around, insisting on going away from the dangerous spot as soon as possible. After pottering and grizzling for a while I rose. Frankly speaking, I was not a cry-baby at all. What’s the use crying if not a single soul except myself and my dog hears me? I cleaned my trousers from snow and ice flakes with a last-year sage and rushed up the path. Suddenly something crushed and grumbled behind me. Having turned round, I noticed a large part of a snow bank where I had recently stood, crashed into the river and rapidly went down the stream, slipping on the side.
‘Well, float then!’ I said to the ice and stepped out after my canine friend.
It was our first real adventure, which could have been kept secret, if not for Aksinia, a good-natured friendly old lady, who used to be our neighbor and kept sitting by the window due to her illness. She watched the whole scene from her ‘observation point’ and informed my parents later. Certainly, Mom told me off and forbade leaving home alone, without Granny or brothers, until the young grass appeared. But since Charlik received a title of ‘handy and necessary creature’ in my Mom’s mind. It seemed to me, he would share this with his ‘comrades’, other dogs in the neighborhood. Each sunny day they would gather on the clearing before our house, stretch on the ground, while Charlik watched them from his favorite spot, which was a huge pile of sand.
 
Chapter 2
When a Goat is Your Bosom Friend
 
 Sometimes it happens that days do not resemble one another, yet, time passes in its stride and there is nothing memorable left. However, every once in a while some recollection pops up and one smiles or becomes sad and start to unravel a mystery, being excited by the recollections of dear people and places.
 So many wonders a human memory keeps! Curious, but I am going to tell you quite another story, which corresponds to the saying: ‘A person is known by his friends’. And I could not help smiling. That is to say, however, people keep saying that we do not choose friends; I myself think quite the opposite. Not only people seek for a more comfortable, interesting and helpful company, but also animals do.
 When I was in the second form, I made a lot of friends. Mom did not appreciate that much, worrying they could distract me from studies, while Dad backed me, being sure that respect and popularity among peers was a good sign of a personal all-round development. So my popularity grew. Extra activities took place at school every day, such as helping the fallen behind or hobby clubs, and I had lots of hobbies.   My dog took my enthusiasm to ‘socially useful work’ with patience and killed the time on his own choice.
 Not far from the school yard, where Charlik used to lie or sit up with his favorite bone treat, which he used to hide skillfully and smartly each time in another place, there was a clearing, where two cheerful goats, Tosya and Rose, were feeding from spring to autumn. They both belonged to an elderly teacher and each year they had little goatlings. I have to admit, these little ones, as all kids all over the world, were funny, cheerful and curious.
 That time was not of exception. A young goatling, called Shurik, had been running around and playing there since the beginning of May. That Shurik was a real enfant terrible so his mother goat would always worry and shouted at him, ordering to obey. However, Shurik was self-sure and bold beyond his years. The long and short of it, he was a goat.
 May was always a month of fun for the school children, but also a month of bid duties. We had too many things to do! It was the end of the school year, everyone wanted to improve their marks, but the sun was tempting to have a walk in the street. The spring had come and everything was growing, so all last year’s grass and flowers must have been taken away to let new sprouts take a start and refresh the eye. So much there was to do, not only at school, but also at home. Should the old leaves before in the school yard and garden be cleared out? Yes, they should. Also flowers should be planted in the school yard, the paths should be swept, dead limbs, broken by the last year wind, should be picked up and piled up, as they would be burnt in a parting camp fire after the Farewell Bell party. Such was the life those days. I would tell you about this another time, and this time I would like to say, that I was so busy at school, that my poor Charlik was about to get upset, but then decided to find a friend and his choice fell on Shurik.
 Shurik, as any little goat, showed remarkable curiosity and boldness, when he lopped to the place where Charlik used to lie, waiting for me, for the first time. Charlik had been watching Shurik with great interest for several days so far, but was not willing to make the first step. Perhaps, he had such character or was stopped by constant and weariless vigil of the mother goat. And now he was lucky!
Shurik was loping on the grass in a strange sideways manner, kicking up his back legs, turning his head with tiny, nearly born horns, to the sides and sometimes gave out: ‘Baa!’ Charlik lifted his head, wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue, watching the goatling in a friendly manner. The goatling approached very close, jumped up to the Lenin monument, rose at his back legs and started to tap dance on the pedestal by his forelegs. Charlik rose and went up to him, sniffed the air and licked Shurik’ nose. Shurik was not afraid, bent his head and showed his horns to Charlik. Charlik licked them, too. Then Shurik grew even bolder, jumped down from the pedestal and approached the dog, bending his head low. It seemed that his horns were itching, Charlik realized that and scratched them with curiosity and care. The goat was beating up and down and throwing out warnings and threats to both of them, but none of them paid attention. Having fulfilled his curiosity and understood that Charlik would do him no harm, the little goat became extremely bold. Having chewed some grass on the go and run around the dog, the goatling lay down and fell asleep.
I have no idea, what each of them was thinking of, but a very close and strong friendship was born that day. In some time everyone noticed that Charlik had found a friend and started to spend a lot of time with the goats. Tosya and Rose finally accepted that fact, and their mistress was very happy, that her pets had found a ‘safe custody’.
 In the end of summer Granny Mina suggested buying the goatling, as she had found out that the mistress was going to sell him. Mom was dead against this offer, as she always hated goats. Dad joked that the offer sounds interesting, as the family would have one goat more. Finally Mom won the battle and was very proud of that, saying:
‘Mina Euphraimovna, what if your beloved Charlik would make friends with a pig?’
‘Charlik is a clever dog,’ Granny contradicted. ‘He would never keep company with pigs. And as for making friends with a goat… Goats are always better than pigs.’
 Since then several month had passed, but the goatling Shurik still lived with his mistress, mother goat and aunt goat. Charlik visited him daily and spend time with pleasure, playing catch-up or just lying down and lazing in the sun. Shurik grew up remarkably during the summer and became a big, good-looking goat. Horns on his head did not look funny any longer, but nevertheless, he continued bending his huge head before Charlik, spreading his forelegs apart, and froze in trembling expectation, taking delight in caresses and care, which Charlik manifested, licking his horns. Many people kept joking about this unusual friendship, but no one dared to trouble goats, feeding peacefully on the clearing.
 September came and we went to school again. First days of the new school year we had to tell or write a story about summer holidays. I wrote mine about our diversion with Charlik during summer days, his cheerful new friend and that the fact did not irritate me but quite the opposite. The end of my short essay was: ‘It’s so great, when your bosom friend is a goat!’
 
Charlik and Shimon, the Ragman
 
  Sometimes I observe the amount of my belongings and think, that I need this and that, this stuff I have got as a birthday present, this one I bought myself God knows why.
  In the mean time people did not use to have so many things. Household tools existed in numbers, but not clothes, shoes or other stuff. We used to lead a more modest life, earned less and the goals were different. Jewelry, evening gowns and fur-coats were not bare necessities, so we did not use to buy them. Worn-out things out of use were not taken away but given to a ragman in exchange for something else, such deficit ones as knife sets and scissors, iron jar caps, pins and needles, knitting stuff, woolen and mohair threads. In summer ragmen also offered various fruit and last-year honey. Each Friday he used to pass the streets of our village driving an old and absolutely indifferent dobbin and shouted out loud:
‘Altezakhen. Getting this for that!’
All children liked this old Jew, despite the fact that he used to threaten them with a small whip with a shorn carved handle. This whip he used to keep in the cart, at his foot. The horse did not need beating up for speeding, it knew its business perfectly well, but when the old man took out his ‘weapon’ hurriedly and showed them to the boys, following his cart, it funnily rounded its eyes, opened its mouth and turned its head to see what its master was going to do. Instead of speeding up it stopped dead. It all looked very strange.
  One Friday, while Charlik and I were playing under the big bird-cherry tree, we heard the cart creak and the same creaky old man’s voice:
‘Getting this for that!’
Charlik , lying as usual his muzzle upon his paws, rose one ear first, and then accidentally sprang, giving out short ‘Woof!’, rushed out of the garden. The ragman had just approached our house, when Charlik ran out, barking loudly.
‘Azokhenvey!’ the old man shouted and sprang into the cart with agility of a youth. ‘Ale tzen zoln dir aroysfaln! Take your Hitler away!’
Granny Mina went out for the call and, standing on the top of the stairs, ordered loudly and firmly:
‘Come!’
Charlik, having understood, that he had done something childishly stupid, laid back his ears, bent his head and jogged reluctantly towards Granny, wagging his tail, while the woman went on scolding him:
‘I’ve told you hundred times, that you are a respectable dog. But you would always attack each and every mounted and dismount, like a funky mutt! You can’t eat up every living being!’
The ragman shook his head, but he was not angry with Granny. They had known each other for a long time and he got her special humor quite well.
‘Mishuguine kopf!’ he murmured, putting some sacks in order inside his cart. ‘Oh, Mina, Mina, what’s the use keeping such fascist at home? You’d better come out and relax near the gates!’
These words acted strangely upon my Granny.
‘You, old shlomiel!’
She turned away and slammed the terrace door. Granny knew her value very well and did not like such ‘jokes’, and the old man drove with his dobbin further on, keeping calling people out. That time he was changing useless stuff or some food excesses like vegetables, fresh eggs, milk and butter for ripe tasty sloe fruit.
  I loved sloe jam and juice, but fresh ripe fruit I loved even more. Also I liked so much ‘shooting’ its seed into the target, squeezing it, slippery from juice, between the thumb and the forefinger. It was such a funny game, until I had hit my brother into the eye, while playing. But it’s another story.
 And now Charlik was lying sad on the grass near the porch and I was sitting on the bench nearby and learned to weave a basket from the willow branches, which I had picked at the river bank. The branches would break, because I did not know that time that pealed willow must be soaked in salty water before work, so that it would become soft, plastic osier. ‘Live and learn,’ Granny used to say and added: ‘And end up a fool!’
It grew hotter and hotter, swallows rushed here and there, twitting. A couple of boys ran past our house, then a group of elder ones rode bicycles, discussing something funny and boasting their youths’ deeds. The ragman stopped before the neighbors’ house and showed his goods to women and children surrounding him. Suddenly one of the boys shouted out loud:
‘Hey, man, how much is the sloe at your stall? Hey, man, can I stall your balls?’
The old man sprang up, grabbed his whip and shouted, shaking it in the air:
‘You just try!’
I had no idea what had happened, but women and boys burst out laughing, and the old man hit his dobbin with reins and drove away, swearing like a trooper.
 Granny went out again and addressed Charlik:
‘Good God! Feeling bad, eh? Shame on you, Chaplin! When will you get smarter? You’ve jumped out, frightened the old man, and he spoiled my mood in return! What in the hell did you need from him?’
Charlik looked at Granny ashamed, then turned to me and sighed deeply. Sometime later he disappeared and Granny supposed that he had turmoil of guilt.
 That very evening the ragman was returning from the neighboring village and the road ran past our house. He started calling out from the distance.
‘Goodmen!’
Dad went out to ask if he needed any help, and the old man explained:
“Your dog had almost swallowed me in the morning, but then helped a lot! My cart lost a wheel, and the forge was a far cry. How could I leave my stuff without care? Then – lo! Your dog was watching me from the gorge, as if he’d been following me! And I’m like – ‘sorry for being rude to you, fellow! Anything can happen out of fear! Will you look after my stuff while I’m out to the village? Don’t let anyone approach!’ I left at my own peril and risk and when I was back – what did I see? My cart and my horse were there, and your dog lying upon the cart, keeping vigil. Such a clever dog you have! He feels everything right! Such a good fellow! Here’s some treat for the work for your kids from old Shimon’ the ragman said, smiling and handed out a bowl full of ripe, large sloe.
So happy I was! It was the first salary of my best friend as Dad mentioned, and Charlik found a new friend in the face of old ragman.
 
Dreams do Come True!
 
 Russian winter is wonderful! It’s my favorite season not only because snow and frost transform the whole world around but also because everyone is waiting for a miracle, dreams coming true, people smile a lot and wish each other the best. Some of them celebrate Christmas, the other New Year, the third Hanukkah. Holiday is in the air. So really unexpected events, looking like magic, tend to happen these days. Being just seven years old one believes that a good magician gives good, well-behaved children presents.
I was waiting for presents and miracles. I had never written letters to Santa, but once draw a picture, which I hid a secret place so none of my relatives could come across it by chance. I wanted to discover, if Santa really exists.
 Charlik was my best friend but could neither write, nor draw, so I decided to ask a present for him by myself. I draw a small kitten with a beautiful ribbon around the neck. Why so? Because Charlik reacted very cheerfully to cats, every time trying to catch them up and suggest running together. But all those cats very alien and did not share Charlik’s feelings and refused to make friends with the dog. They jumped up on the fence or on the tree, hissed angrily or meowed rawly, waving tails from side to side. Charlik had already lost hope, that he could meet a ‘friendly furball’ to play with.
 Then holidays came. Mom and Granny were busy for several evenings, making a ‘snow flake’ costume for our school event. I had learned a verse by heart and tried to imagine, how I would look in my costume. I did not even wonder why I needed exactly this one, as long as the teacher had said so, it must have been right. Everything went on well until my brother said:
‘A Snow flake must be blond.’
I was upset, lost inspiration to wear my costume and go to the party at all. But I had no idea how I would explain to my Mom that I did not want to go. My dark hair could not become blond by any means. The girl in a Snow flake costume had yellow hair, because the white color looked strange, as if the girl accidentally turned grey, so I had to paint the hair yellow. So I hid my picture and waited my dream to come true one night of the New Year eve.
 The holiday morning came; Mom prepared my white tights, shoes, decorated with white cloth, lametta flowers and new-year toy beads, my dress and my head-band, also decorated with lametta and beads. Unusual white cloth, attached to my head-band and embroidered with shiny stars, caught my eye.
We were short of time, as usual, so we had to hurry up. Mom collected my new-year costume, wrapped it with white sheet to protect from wind and snow, and we went to the school party. My mood left much to be desired. Charlik was running in front and even did not turn to look at us.
‘There,’ I thought, ‘even Charlik is not interested in my feelings! All the girls in our class, who also had to play Snowflakes, were fair, and only I was a ‘black sheep’!’
 Finally we reached school and entered the classroom, where there had been other boys and girls, already dressed for the party. Snowflakes looked like one another, fair, with big white bows on their heads. The teacher showed us to the dressing room. So little time was left before the beginning!
 Mom calmly laid out our things, took off my clothes and carefully dressed me up in my tights, shoes, Snow flake dress, which included five stiffly starched skirts, embroidered by stars and ornaments, resembling frost design on the window, attached white cloth to my head, having carefully arranged my curls, and only then put on the head-band. She puffed my face and then brought me to the large mirror. Oh, my! A miraculously beautiful fairy-girl looked at me from the glass! An unforgettable feeling overwhelmed me. That girl was me, but she had none of my dark curls, and she had a beautiful Granny’s brooch with a blue stone on the forehead! I did not know that time that it was a pure sapphire, but who cares? The teacher looked at me, smiled and I realized how beautiful she was with a smile!
 We had a magical party and Santa was absolutely real, as well as his grand-daughter, Snow Girl. She spoke as Galina, a girl from the neighborhood, but there are a lot of similar people in the world, and similar voices as well.
 When the party was nearly over, Santa complimented all the children for verses, songs and dances, and said that his holiday would have been much less happy is Snow Girl had not have so cheerful and beautiful friends Snowflakes. Then he took me on his arms and said:
‘I like this one the best. Why don’t we take her to the North Pole?’
‘No way, dear Santa! I can’t go with you! I’m not a real Snowflake, I’m a school girl! And I can’t leave Charlik alone!’
Everyone laughed out loud and Santa said:
‘Good girl! One can’t forget bosom friends!’
 When we came back home, I was delighted. My dream had come true! I did not manage to learn, if the miracles happened and good magicians existed or Mom and Granny had seen my picture by chance. But I had no time to speculate, because there was holiday and fun! I decided to share the present, which I had got from Santa, with others. So I put the package with sweets and fruit under the New-year tree, which Dad and brothers had brought home from the forest on the sleigh and set up in the middle of the living room. Granny Mina had her own opinion on the subject of the New Year celebration but she kept it to herself. Good mood and happy people around were of greater importance.
  Charlik stayed outside this time and seemed to wait for his dream to come true. As long as we had not got the cat, I came to a conclusion that it was better to make up a wish by one’s own without relying on someone else, even a friend. So I’ve been following this idea since then. And you?
 
Charlik and Granny Mina
 
  So unusual our world is! There are joy and sorrow, delight and pain at the same time, there is everything one needs. How can one become a Human if not? That’s it! Not only good events shape and train one’s character. A real Human nature is being hardened like steel during the whole life, by going through sufferings, and staying grounded at the time of luck and success. This fact we used to discuss with Granny Mina.
  She became grand-mother in her fifty-two. Despite some hankering after the past, unaccomplished plans, one-way love, broken dreams and other ‘life gifts’ listed alphabetically, existing in a wise book, called ‘Medical encyclopedia’, Granny used to find reasons to speculate over various subjects and make enthusiastic conclusions. She could not stand long women’s patters and refused to tell about the period when she turned from a respectful family girl into an old woman in her thirties.
  I would not trouble her resting soul with those recollections and stories about the times, which axed off all her joyful childhood and adolescent years and thrown into Vorkutlag hell due to, at first sight, banal reasons, which had been her nationality and a ‘public enemy’ husband.
‘If not for Sonya, I’d never stay with you now and would have been buried there!’ she used to say, showing that she refused to discuss that time, which was called ‘there’ in our family.
  Granny managed to save her joyful character, and any educated man of today could be jealous to her sharp mind. As she was the eldest in the family, all of us looked up at her unwillingly and followed her example in behavior, way of communication, what to say and what better not to. Certainly, it was allowed to think over and discuss any interesting subject. ‘The thought goes first, the word always follows’ was the unspoken law of our family, which Granny had fixed. By the way, she was directly involved into my puppy’s treatment. She taught him to behave himself and act wisely, Charlik was listening attentively, watching her and sighing.
‘You’re such a silly child! Just wait, I’ll strike you at the part, where your back legs grow, and you’ll think then, if you can gnaw anything! You’ll get your ‘sleeper’ and stop frightening hens! You just wait!’
However, she never punished the dog. Nevertheless, either her talks and friendliness, or her kind heart, attention and care did their bit. Charlik, step by step, became cleverer and wiser. He used to play, walk and idle with me, whilst he used to learn how to become a ‘a good dog, deserving to stay in the masters’ house not only in cold or rainy days but also in the good days of summer.
  Once she allowed Charlik to come inside in a rainy day and lie down on the rug before the fire. I was pretending to be an artist, because Dad had brought me water colors and a drawing book from the city. I loved the present so much and supposed that Dad had noticed my painting talent, so I must have started to paint right away to become a good painter, because the one who hesitates is lost.
 I was painting my pet and Granny sitting in her favorite arm-chair with a large old book, written in strange letters, to my mind. She would read it more and more often lately. Later I learned that it was a book of Jewish prayers. Our Granny supposed that one should pray in Yiddish according to special prayer-books, where short petitions to Jewish Mother were collected. It was hard to overestimate the power of those prayers accompanied by a pure tear (‘mame’ in Yiddish). It could pull down the strongest wall between Jews and Good Lord. She used to say it to Sonya, but Sonya had her own opinion about the ‘connections above’.
Such a pity, that so much was lost and forgotten and even more had lacked attention during our life! There is a tendency now to return to the roots. I think it is worth doing. A human, who knows nothing about their kin, without respect to their ancestors and national traditions, is like a tree without roots.
  So, I was paining Granny Mina and Charlik. It was raining with snow outdoors. The wind was tearing off the last leaves and throwing it into the pedestrians, windows and stuffing them into the holes and corners. On the contrary it was cozy and warm inside. Suddenly Charlik shook, sprang and rushed to the door with a loud bark.
‘What’ up?’ Granny put on her thick knitted sherpa jacket and hurried after the dog to the street, while he ran at full fling to the neighboring house. ‘Where’re you going? What have you smelled?’
Granny was hurrying for dear life, and I also decided to dress up and follow them. Hardly had I come out, jumped down the stairs, next but one as usual, because I found it boring to descend normally, a loud crack and slam reached my ears. A huge old ash branch fell from a great height on the neighbors’ porch, unable to bear the weight of wet snow covering its sprouts and leaves. Granny did not manage to dodge so the upper branches rapidly and unexpectedly fell upon her. I screamed of fear and rushed towards her at full fling. At the same time Charlik turned and ran for help, too. He went on coming up and grabbing the branches with his teeth, trying to rescue Granny from the captivity. Having reached Granny, I was crying and sobbing. The wind was tearing my unbuttoned coat down; the snow was smacking me into the face and piercing my eyes and did not let me get a lungful of fresh air. I was trying tooth and nail to take the branches off my Granny, but I was too little and failed.
‘Gra-a-any-y-y! I’m almost there! Don’t die, plee-e-ease, dear Granny!’ I was screaming with great fear, having noticed a tiny trace of blood streaming from her nose.
Charlik managed to crawl underneath and started to lick Granny’s face and arm, crushed down with a thick ash brunch. I was crying and twitching the branches trying to break those, which I was able to break. Thanks God, it was just an ash! Its wood is quite fragile. I managed to break some, which had covered Granny's face. I dug wet snow and my hands were frozen with cold and disobeyed. I had forgotten my mittens and there were hanging from the coat sleeves. Finally Granny recovered her senses and made an effort to free herself. That very moment the neighbors’ door flashed open and Uncle Paul appeared at the doorstep. He was frightened, however, approached quickly and turned a huge knot aside to let Granny and Charlik free.
‘How on Earth did you end up this way, Mina Euphraimovna?’
Granny rested upon his arm and rose with an effort, shaking herself off the small sprouts and snow. I grabbed her by the jacket and cried out loud, smearing tears across my face.
‘It was long since I’ve decided to cut this ash down,’ Uncle Paul sputtered out. ‘Yet did not get around to! How are you? Do you feel your back and legs well?’
Granny nodded.
‘Holy God! Today is the anniversary of the bad day several years ago when a tree fell upon me at logging camp! It seems, my time hasn’t come yet!’ she said in a low voice, resting on Uncle Paul’s arm.
‘And we are in great misfortune.’ he said. ‘Mother has just died.’
Granny stopped dead and whispered, flinging her arms.
‘Oh-vey! Maria! I haven’t managed to come! Although our dog called me. I was thinking if anything could happen while you’re away, working. Maria could not rise by herself. And here the brunch came! Poor Maria! I failed to part with you!’ Granny went on lamenting.
I realized that something really wrong had happened to the Granny’s best friend, Maria, even worse than the fact that we had been paralyzed for several years and could only wink or cry, when Granny and I had paid her visits. Granny rose to the porch accompanied by Uncle Paul and then turned to me and said:
‘Go home, sweetie, and I’ll stay. Don’t cry, love, I’m alive, everything is well. Look, Dad is coming back from work. Don’t be afraid. And thank you,’ she addressed Charlik. ‘Such a clever and devoted dog you are! You’ve saved my arm. If you did not crawl under the brunch, it would crash me to death.’
Charlik was sitting near the doorstep, and his fur rose on his crest.
‘Can you see Death?’ asked Uncle Paul in a low voice, having squatted down on his haunches before Charlik and added: ‘Tell her, that she must leave. My mother is enough for her today!’
It was so strange to see big and strong Uncle Paul crying. And late at night Granny told my parents about the trouble at neighbors’, how Charlik had sensed something wrong, how the branch had fallen and how my pet and I had come to rescue her from under the snow and knots.
‘A bad picture it would be – Mina lying under the tree!’ Granny rhymed and went on: ‘She’s growing a good kind brave girl. She was not afraid, did not let me alone and went on struggling. And such a clever dog and such a devoted friend Charlik is! A true friend needs no orders. He’s ready to help risking his own life!’ she added in the end.
The room was so silent that the creak of logs in the fireplace and the tick of the clock. Mom was sobbing quietly, wiping her eyes with her apron and Dad was resting beside her, petting Charlik on the head and shoulders. My brothers and I were happy, that everything went off all right, our Granny was safe and sound and were, certainly, proud of Charlik. Such a thing happened with us once.
 
Charlik and Sonya
 
Days changed days, weeks passed and finally august came and it was necessary to visit school three times a week. These visits were called ‘preparation’. I seldom walked there, as we lived quite far away, so Mom cycled me to school, which was great. She put me on the frame, with a pillow attached to it or wrapped into a coat in advance, to make me comfortable. Later Dad attached an additional seat there, so we could have a long a happy ride. But I wanted to drive the bicycle myself.
‘Mom, let it go! Let me drive it for you!’ I begged but Mom pretended being deaf. Dad, on the contrary, let me ‘hold the wheel’, when we were cycling together. He always heard what I used to say!
  Our Mom adhered to her principles, yet she had never been spiteful and told us off. She used to get on us with her moral teaching, as my brother put it. I loved Mom so much, she was very beautiful and smelled nicely with flower soap. During our trips she was always afraid to fall, accidentally run Charlik over or drop me, as the handlebar used to turn currently here and there. Certainly, I did my best to catch hold of it and help her but Mom was nervous and demanded me to stop. Despite that my dog was always at my side, jogging before the bicycle, showing the way and paying absolutely no attention to our ride. He was preoccupied with watching around, for instance, neighboring dogs, who would spring out from under the gates barking loudly and showing their teeth. However they used to flee away soon, although Charlik was not interested in them, as I had thought. He was stronger and more self-confident than any of them. Bigger dogs used to bark loudly and gruffly at the back yards. Charlik accompanied us with pride, as it used to be his main guty.
  From time to time Granny asked us to visit her old friend from the village next to ours, Grandma Sonya, however everyone else used to call her just by the first name. She was a woman of ‘almost advanced age’, dressed up in strange clothes and used to tie up her grey curly hair with a shawl, whirled up in a reed in a manner that it would break loose and tremble on the wind like a September spider net. Sonya was ‘too educated for the locals’, as Granny used to say. As the latter, she knew several foreign languages, but that was not all. She could multiply and divide multidigit numbers and had a lot of various skills, but she also had some quirk, because she was afraid of dogs to death. Charlik realized it as soon as they got acquainted. He was a ‘very smart one’, as Dad out it, and a «shnorer», as Granny put it, because he could easily gain the affection of a human, he was interested in. A year after the first acquaintance he became a frequent visitor at Sonya’s. First she took his suspiciously, as any reserved lonely old lady, but little by little she got used to him and even started to appreciate his presence. If one managed to ride or walk past Sonya’s house without troubling them both, one could easily them passing time in the garden. Sonya was doing her job and he was lying next to her favorite bench under the old lime tree, which she used to call a funny name of «aunteralindan».
 But it happened much later. At the beginning Sonya paid no interest to our Charlik and protested sharply against his ‘garden invasions’. One of such events I would like to describe this time. It happened in August, Granny Mina backed pancakes and, having packed some gifts into a small sack, told Mom:
‘Ann, we should bring «blinche» to Sonya .’
I should say, Granny had never asked anyone about anything, but she spoke the way that no one would dare to refuse. She was the eldest in the house, but used to threaten us with ‘Mom’s authority’. So, having packed everything needed, Mom put me on her bicycle and off we went. Sonya, having noticed us in the distance, shut the gates quickly and was waiting, leaning against the fence.
‘Oh-vey, Ann, you’ve brought your vildekhayagain! Wait and see – he would bite someone and you’ll be guilty!’
‘Don’t speak silly things,’ Mom hurried to reason her, jumping down from the bicycle, trying to keep balance and me at the same time. ‘Charlik is a wise dog, he never eats people.’
‘You don’t know life yet, dear girl, everyone eats people,’ Sonya insisted fixing her eyes on yawning Charlik, who showed clearly complete indifference. As if trying to persuade Sonya: ‘Calm down, I’m full today’ and then lay down to rest right before her gates.
‘Here’s some treat for you for tea,’ Mom said, handing her the sack.
Charlik licked his lips, stuck out his tongue and went on lying down resting his pretty head on his stretched out forelegs, wagging his tail. Suddenly Sonya shook her head and said:
‘Look at him! Do you like pancakes, too, Puppy? I don’t blame you, I’m worried. If you bite someone, you’ll be jailed. And there’s no life in jail. I used to love dogs when I was younger, but Vorkutlag swept this love away, as simple dust.’
Charlik covered his muzzle with his right paw and Sonya could not help laughing.
“Lo! Such a clever dog! It’s not fair to call him ‘just a dog’!’
Charlik grew even bolder, rose at his hind legs and out his forelegs upon the gates.
‘He’s still young, but he’ll go to school with me. The school will start soon!’ I said.
It was true. Charlik and I went to school and grew cleverer and cleverer. When Sonya would see us, she would ask:
‘Are you still studying? Haven’t finished yet?’
I answered that it was still a long way to go, but showed how Charlik could count from one to three, if one showed him an exact number of apples or pears, but with burgers it went even better. Sonya enjoyed those performances a lot and she used to grant us with something, saying with a cute look:
‘From each according to his abilities, to each according to his work!’
I liked those words so much, that once repeated them before the teacher, when she admired my work of carefully dusting classroom plants, when I was only seven. However, she called my father to school and had a long talk with him. That time I learned that not only the skill of ‘good speech’ was important, but also the skill of ‘good keeping silent’. Granny realized immediately which way the wind blows, so we had to take a break in our performances with Charlik and visits to Sonya. I could not get why I was not allowed to come to her place to warm up on my way back from school. For me ‘should not’ was not equal to ‘must not’. Moreover, she had promised to tell me interesting stories about ghouls, when I would grow a bit older. I could not stand waiting, on the on hand, but could not disobey Dad, on the other. So we met ‘on the bench’, as she put it. When we were returning from school and she happened to be out, a dozen of minutes of such ‘chats on the bench’ were enough make her face shine up with a smile. This ban did not last long, though, as Dad supposed that lack of communication with a wise person could spoil my character. He might have seen nothing wrong in the fact that Sonya loved me so much. And it was true that she loved Charlik and me wholeheartedly. Once I remember her telling Granny Mina:
‘You know, my dear, I feel that your naughty monkey Milka and her domestic demon got into my heart, though I thought there’s no place there for joy and happiness’.
Granny hugged her delicately by the waist by the arm as by a large wing, as only she could do, and said:
‘I was right, you see! Feelings have no age. There’s time for anything – time to love and time to suffer!’
After that Granny talked with Dad and he finally lifted a ban to my communication with Sonya. Dad did not have to follow the teacher’s order so vigorously. At least I thought that way. Sonya was good and kind-hearted. As Granny said, the teacher was a ‘weak sprout of civilization, in comparison to her.
 By the way, Sonya wrote poems in French in the right frame of mood, but never read them to anyone and put them down into a thick notebook, sawn from several thinner ones.
 She passed away two years later, and once Granny said, looking at Sonya’s photo:
‘Oh, vey, Sonya, Sonya! Ghouls of Vorkutlagå broke the rose!’