"Take two, you're dashing!"

A fragment of the book of memoirs of Alena Doletskaya “Not Life, but a Fairy Tale” - about her beloved dogs of the Husky breed

In early December, the Alena Doletskaya, the first editor -in -chief editor of Vogue and Interview in Russian, is published at the Publishing House of Hummingbirds. Doletskaya, who is considered the founder of Smart Gloss in Russia, wrote three culinary books, and publishes memoirs for the first time. In them, she talks about the parents (famous surgeons, Stanislav Doletsk and Kira Daniel-Bek), secular Moscow, glossy filming and their backstage. With the permission of the publishing house and the author, we publish a fragment from the book about the best friends of Alena Doletskaya - dogs of the Husky breed.

They talk about them as often as children. And when they are bought, selected and turned, then they often boss about the owners: “Well, understandable whether there are no children, or have grown. So they started a toy. " So, life with such a “toy” can teach us much more and important than life with human individuals.

One fine day in the late 90s I realized that I could not live without a dog. I knew for sure that I wanted Husky - a dog similar to a wolf. There was a little options where to look: the newspaper "from hand to hand" and the bird market. She did not dare to go to the "bird". I knew that I would buy all the abandoned and crippled dogs and to them in addition to mole, marmots and a speaking parrot. In the newspapers, the word "Husky" did not flash.

She flew on a business trip to London, and then a close friend calls me, the then producer of Spiegel in Moscow, Volodya Vylev: I found the announcement of the breeder Hasu! Call them soon! Yeah, from London for a million money. Right now. But the burning desire won, I'm calling.

- Nikolai Petrovich, health, I am by ad. I would like to buy a Husky puppy from you. - A long pause.

- Hello. What is your name, full name?

- Elena Stanislavovna.

- Do you have a last name?

“Dovetskaya,” I say.

“Name,” he says gloomily, “year, month and day of birth.”

“I'm actually about the Husk,” I am nervous, “I don’t need a horoscope.”

- I do not sell my puppies to anyone. So, say, January 10 ... Not bad, yes. You can have a hack. I will check your year later.

At the end of a viscous and expensive conversation, I get the address of the breeder. Somewhere in the vast expanses of our Motherland, near Yaroslavka, right in front of the Moscow Ring Road. She returned to Moscow and soon with Volodya and another friend-dog-to the dog farm. I expected to see a wooden house with clearings-lugs, puppies, their mothers and daddy run along them. It turned out to be a dark gray Khrushchoba without an elevator. A tiny typical two -room swing, from which howl and barking is heard from everywhere.

In, so to speak, a living room with a washed burgundy sofa and two chairs, the owner takes out six touching three -month puppies. They are worn, as it should be puppies, but one of them is twice as fast as everyone else. He jumps from the floor to the sofa pillow, and from it - right on my neck and hangs there. Like a proud of a black-and-brown fox.

I take it off the neck, and he continues to make two hundred and fifty -five movements per minute. He jumps into his hands-such a silk such a black and white jusk with a wolf mask. Brown, dark chocolate eyes. And I, like all novice Haskolyubi, wanted with blue eyes. But Nikolai Petrovich has a second droppings. He takes the first team, hardly tears off my brown -eyed one, which hung on the scruff, clinging into my sweater with claws. In the second litter, I choose a blue -eyed puppy, the color of an immature peach. Milashka gently climbs to me, and then a terrible rumble of falling pots comes from the next room, something glass beats along the road, and the brown-eyed bursts into the half-open door and jumps on me already without transplanting to sofas pillows. Volodya unanimously with a friend-dog says: "Take two, you're dashing!" But then Nikolai Petrovich turns on:

- Why do you need this idiot? He prompted me a half -house and in general he is not a condition.

True, his dad was premium, from Canada, but his mother is Russian and strange. The temper is furious, we called him a dragon.

As a result, I give a lot of money for the peach - and very little for the non -inforiative brown -eyed.

It turned out at home: the intestines were spoiled by both puppies with a poor feeding, and the veterinarian announces that the decay is immature peach - a tribal marriage: “He has cryptorchidism, and the testicle will not jump out. This is bad for the dog and for the owners, and now it is already inoperative. ” For some reason, I remember that my dad brilliantly operated on cryptorchidism in children. I call Nikolai Petrovich: “Your wandy puppy is cryptorch. Take it, I do not want to take risks. " He arrived, without blinking his eye, took the puppy, promised to bring the money later and, of course, never returned it. Crooks are consistent people.

The non -inferior puppy grew excellent. The intestines were cured by chamomile enemas and good food. He called him Ray. Ray is in honor of the beloved singer Ray Charles, a respected fashion designer Ray Kawakubo, and, finally, Ray in English means “Ray of Light”. And if not Ray is written, but Rey, then in Latin he is also a king, ruler.

Somewhere a year later, the dog friends said: “Go with Ray to the dog’s exhibition, this is terribly interesting. He is such a handsome man! " To my amazement, I was steamed by this, learned to walk with the dog on a special leash and went to Sokolniki for a real international exhibition. Ray was elegant in a special way, obedient, walked like a thoroughbred stallion, but there were no hopes for victory. After all, the breeder said that he was non -contact.

I have not seen such Sokolnikov in my life - the scorching Moscow heat in thirty degrees, the park is divided by fences into clear areas for different breeds, the owners on the nervous is cleaner than parents during the entrance to the Moscow State University. M.V. Lomonosov. Judge in the Husky group-Malamut-samoye-a real German from Germany. Tall, lean, strict and glasses.

Dogs are exhausted, people are scandalous, hell - in short. Ray and I are passing in the group another fifty Husky-pest. Verings. The next circle. Verings. We went to the third, the last. Judges go to a five -minute council. Ahahaaa! We get first place in our category. Satisfied with praise and attention, Ray clearly dreams of a shady country cottage cool. I am even more so flattered, but I want to go home, in the shower and in silence. I collect our manat, bowls and other leashes. And then, seeing our fees, the German judge approaches us: "Nein-nein-nein-nein." Nothing, it turns out, has not yet ended, because further the finale, Best in Show, is a competition for the best of the best with the rest of the breed. Ohh.

And then I feel a sincerely hating look on myself. Who do I see? So this is Nikolai Petrovich, who sold me Ray as a non -contact. He himself is here with four dogs, of which the judge allows only one to Best in Show. Seeing how this crook is furious, looking at my former uncontrolled puppy, I rejoiced.

To top it off, Ray Doletsky receives the main prize of Best in Show - a scarlet axelbant, a gilded letter and a package with foreign, rare at that time, food. I give the judge a package because we have long switched from dry poop to natural food.

We did not go to dog shows anymore. I had enough of these shows above the roof at work: there are fourteen pieces of mods of mods a year. But Ray, probably, still worried that I did not lead him to exhibitions. Every time before my departure to Paris, Milan, London or New York, he went on the run. On women.

Speaking of women. Much later, I read in one book that if you start Husky, remember, this is one of the most sexually active dog breeds. If there is a current bitch in the radius of twenty -five kilometers, he will find it. But for a long time I thought that I did not have a dog, but some kind of sexual giant. He always ran away precisely before my departments, exactly at the moment when I had to get into the car to go to the airport. And hysterical searches in the area began, with the risk of late on the plane. It seems that it was Ray's revenge-after all, the guy clearly wanted to shows.

But Ray was not offended by me, because at every opportunity I took him with me to various social events. And there were many of them. His photos flashed in secular chronicles: “Ray Doletsky at the opening of Bosco Cafe. Ray Doletsky is on the anniversary of the director Nikita Mikhalkov. ” Once he was chosen a “face” or, as they say, an ambassador of an expensive dog perfume. Life was a success.

Ray was a talented student, but he also became my teacher. From books and from himself, I learned that Husky love the owners who respect their love of freedom. And how to educate it in yourself? And how to convey to another, that you respect his love of freedom? It was a difficult lesson for me. I understood little about the love of freedom among others, with men it was a pronounced owner, and it did not always end well.

To begin with, when we left for a walk with Ray in the lasa field, I let him go without a leash, run where my eyes look. From time to time, I kneaded on “to me”, “next to me”, “where are you.” Of course, with full pockets of goodies as a reward. On long walks, I like to lie in the grass, relax-mock. But it is impossible to simultaneously dream and think about where your dog is. Therefore, I had two favorite teams - “sit” and “get on”. Ray learned these two commissions quickly, and soon learned to come to a whistle completely. But, when you are four months old, and this, consider, a young teenager like human, he was uncontrollably curious-there was a new smell, there are mice, there are mole. And I had to comb the forests in search of a young man. But I understood that it still should not cling to the leash. Only voice and gratitude. This respect for his love for freedom turned out to be important for further life. Him and mine.

Another lesson that Ray taught me was similar to what I was taught, but, apparently, dad and mom did not use me. We had an agreement with him: leaving, I said, for example: “I will be at one in the morning. You are walking, fed, goodies there, water here - we lie, rest, wait. ” Eyes in the eyes, pupils in pupils. At one in the morning, I was returning, Ray lay, rested and waited as they agreed. One fine day I walked and returned to the country at half a fame. How he joyfully met me! The tail is propeller, paws on the shoulders, licked from head to toe, and in the house - a virgin order. And I thought: this is what an aristocrat means. King, Best in Show. The king even knows how to tolerate, unlike my dad, who demolished his head for a half -hour delay. And I, terribly satisfied, collapsed into the bathroom, crawled into bed and fell asleep.

The next morning I wake up and see my long, over the years, a number of shoes. Ten, then thirty pairs, then forty, fifty ... So, I see a strange thing. From the exemplary series of shoe luxury, one pair is neatly removed. My then most elegant, the most beloved, limited circulation is made of black suede, and my nose is embroidered with ten different sequin colors. Princess shoes. Dolce & Gabbana. Right - was defeated into smoke. The sequins are scattered on the floor, like confetti, the heel was simply absent. Ray's left shoe bit less traumatic. But he is biting to death. Thin revenge.

I wanted to brutally get angry. And then she thought: she got what he deserved. We did not agree on such delay. And the agreement is more expensive than money.

The dead pair of shoes and Ray with them and without I took a picture and at the next shows in Milan went to the designers Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabban. The season of these shoes passed, and they could not be on sale. I prayed: "Stefano, Domenico, if suddenly there is such an opportunity to find such somewhere, I will be happy." They laughed like children, hung pictures on their walls, and soon repeated this pair for me. Until now, the eyes are delighted.

Ray made a wonderful father from Ray. He made many worthy children. Charles Raevich was from the second litter. I left him, although everyone shouted: you are crazy, two male in the house will smash each other and you, and it will be terrible. Mythical nonsense again. All the best that Charles learned (we unofficially call him the prince, because the king was Ray, and no one else), he learned from his father. How to come to visit, do not pester strangers with stupid requests, go to bed under the dining table and wait for the end of the meal, how not to enter the house with dirty legs, how to wait for a washing, and most importantly - how to go around puddles and not to champs dirt with their paws. If the son walked along the puddle, Ray, bypassing Gryazyuk, lay down at the end of the road and waited for him to come out of it, like a pig, he threw himself on him and gave out pedagogical, so to speak, Tumakov: Bu-Bo-Bo-B-Rr-Rr, grabbed the scruff of the scruff, dragged him in all directions-and only then went on for a walk. Exactly also continues now: Charles had a son, and Charles teaches Guy, how to go around the puddles.

At sixteen and a half years old, and Husky live an average of thirteen years, Ray began to get sick. Diagnosis - cancer and metastases in the rear joints. It was very painful for him to get to his feet after he went to bed. I went to the doctors: I was ready for anything, only so that he would not hurt. They prescribed painkillers, but said that as soon as the dog could not get up for a long time, this means the end. It was strange for me to hear this, because we got used to the fact that there are lying patients and you can take care of them. Dogs have otherwise. At some point, it became difficult for him to get up even with my help, and rising, he passed two steps and fell. And cried in pain.

When your first dog dies, it is very scary. The four closest friends came to me. They called the doctor and sat down to wait. Ray no longer got up, but blinked. I thought, now it would come in some kind of barn-coat with an icy gaze and with a shabby suitcase, and how to do it, so as not to send him back and not see him at all. The ringing of the bell on the door, one of my people let the doctor into the house. I raised my eyes with horror - shock. A young guy came in-a tall so thin, with a calm, almost angelic face of a poet of a century before last and for some reason with a familiar pacifying voice. It comes from him and softness. Everyone sat around a large dining table, I am on the floor next to Ray. The doctor said: “I will now make him a hypnotic injection. He will calm down, and then I will introduce a loving medicine. If you want to say goodbye, then the best. And yet. Sometimes, when sleeping pills is introduced, the dog is so weak or sick that it can leave already during the action of the sleeping pills. ” I said goodbye to Ray Lying and asked him about two things: “Do not be afraid, just do not be afraid. And please wait. We will definitely see each other. ”

As the angel -like guy said, Ray fell asleep and left right under the sleeping pills.

I decided to cremate it to dispel part of the ashes over meadows and fields near Moscow, where he walked, and most of them, on the advice of Nina Gomiashvili’s close friend, over the Indian Ocean. Great idea. Ray would like to live by the ocean, hang out on long beaches and jump on the waves. Well, in general - to see the world.

Cremation and preparation for the removal of dust abroad were more reminiscent of a special operation of the intergalactic reconnaissance for the removal of gold ingots of an unknown test.

The country that Nina and I decided to go was Bali, and a harsh anti -drug law reigns in it. If you find something reminiscent of drugs, arrest immediately, then prison and death penalty. In short, you need a document confirming cremation. And in the crematoriums they say: "You are crazy, we do not give such documents, we cremated, gave the check, so present it." I ask: "Well, write me a certificate." - “What other reference? We don’t even have a form for such a certificate. ” “I just need a piece of paper, which says that the NO284 crematorium on a farm near Dikanka cremicated a dog.” In general, they sent me away. The familiar veterinarian saved, wrote a certificate of euthanization. And then I had to make a notarized translation of this certificate with all state prints. The ashes were poured into a plastic container for sandwiches and hit the road. On the border, no one led an eyebrow.

Nina, who knows Bali perfectly, took me to the monastery of the XII century at the highest ledge of the rock over the ocean. We go along the road of pilgrims, monks and tourists, pasty people jump everywhere who strive to take away something from you. I pressed a precious container to my chest, lost maneuverability, and some impudent monkey tore Ray-Ban glasses from my head. I can hardly take them away from the arrogant cattle and say: “Nin, but most importantly, when we go upstairs so that we do not succeed, as in“ Big Lebovski ”. Remember, he went to dispel the ashes of his friend, the wind blew in the wrong place, and all the dust was on his physiognomy. ” We crawl along the narrow passage between the ancient walls to the highest point of the monastery, we find a secluded piece of the cape, we squat at the cliff - and the wind completely subsides. This is a sign: I got exactly where I dreamed and had to get.

I again say goodbye to Ray, we both cry, but Nina, a hardened dog man, says: “Everything, favorite, let go, while there is no wind.” I get up at full height, Ninka shouts: “Why are you getting up, went crazy? Throw sitting! " The cape on the rock is tiny, barely fit together. I say: "No, it is strange somehow sitting to let go on such a trip." I get up, Nina holds me by the legs, around the unearthly beauty - the Balian copper sunset, the holy walls of the monastery, the divine peace. I open the container and send the ashes to the air to the ocean: "Well, Ray, fly, look at another world, light up there in full, and everything will be fine." Tears of both are already pouring. И ровно в этот момент случается какое-то природное завихрение, прах совершает над нашими головами кульбит, и одна его часть плавно, красиво, воронкой летит в океан, а другая, по неведомому мне закону физики, отрывается от этой спирали, и я в мгновение превращаюсь в альбиноса с белыми ресницами. Вспомнила «Большого Лебовски»? Получи. Мы отряхивали прах друг с друга, уже на корточках, и плакали на этот раз от нелепости нашего вида.

Проводы удались. Когда буду писать завещание, попрошу, чтобы меня провожали точно так же. Много печали и много радости — радости полета, того самого, что ты в последний момент даришь любимому существу.