The Little Puppy Who Lost His Name

Marina Horte
Translated from Russian by Irene W. Galaktionova


Fluffy the Kitten was walking down the street when he saw a tiny little puppy. The puppy  was crying.
Why is he crying? Fluffy wondered. It's such a lovely day and he's sitting there crying. Something has to be wrong.
Fluffy wanted to come over to the puppy but remembered that cats were supposed to be afraid of dogs. So he walked past, keeping a safe distance.
I'd love to know why he's crying. What if he's lost? Fluffy turned and looked at the puppy. He's too young, anyway. He probably doesn't chase cats yet.
He came over to the puppy and asked him, "Are you all right?"
The puppy didn't answer. Instead, he cried even harder. Tears rolled down his whiskers and dropped onto the sidewalk. One tear fell onto Fluffy's paw. Fluffy shook it off, thinking, This is one strange little puppy. He can't even answer my question. But he must know his own name, surely?
"What's your name?" Fluffy asked.
"I don't know," said the puppy. "I think I've lost my name."
"That's what it is!" said Fluffy. "That's why you're crying! Let's go and look for your name, then!"
The puppy stopped crying and looked up at Fluffy. "How can we do that?" he asked.
"First of all, do you have a description of your name?" Fluffy asked.
"What's a des… crip-tion?"
"Well," said Fluffy, "look at me: I'm black with white legs and a fluffy tail. This is called a description."
The puppy thought a little. "I think my name looked a bit like myself."
"That's already something," said Fluffy. "I think we're halfway there!"
"Halfway isn't a lot," the puppy tilted his face upward.
"That's what you think," Fluffy sighed. "You should ask my big brother! When our Mom gives us a slice of meat, she always says, 'share it halfway'. But he always gets the bigger half because by the time I say yum! he says yum yum! And while I say slurp! he says slurp slurp!"
"Very well," said the puppy. "We've still the other halfway to go."
"There're many names that look like yourself," said Fluffy. He began counting, "Chubby,  Brownie, Whiskers, Sweetie, Cutie…"
"I'm not Sweetie! I'm not Cutie!" the puppy protested. "I'm a boy."
"I see," said Fluffy. "Do you remember what kind of face your name had?"
"It wasn't special," the puppy admitted. "It was sort of smiley. But nice, too. A bit like a smiling cookie."
"Was it?" Fluffy got thinking. "Cookies are good. If it was as good as you say, somebody could have already found it! Where have you been this morning?"
"I went up that road," the puppy pointed. "When I left our house, I still had my name with me. And when I reached that tree over there, I didn't have it any more."
"Then you must have lost it somewhere between your house and that tree! Shall we go and look?"
"Okay, let's go!"
Fluffy and the puppy started running.
"We must run faster or someone might get there before us," Fluffy said. "Imagine if somebody has two names and you don't have any at all!"
Then he stopped. "Did you say your name was smiley? Like a smiling cookie?"
The puppy stopped, too. "I think it was."
"So what if your name is Smiley?"
"That's right!" the happy puppy wagged his tail. "Smiley! That's what my Mom calls me when she wants to give me a hug! You know what? Let's go to my place! I want you to meet my Mom. She's the best!"
"No, thank you," said Fluffy. "I don't make friends with dogs."
With that, he walked the other way.

the end