Dogs of my heart

The legalization of animation is a process, and its denouement is not obvious. Mumu was followed by Gerasim's departure from the lady and her death

This text was released in the second issue of the New Review magazine.

Deputies want to allow the homeless dogs to kill. We know thanks to Lynch that the owls are not what it seems. And the dogs?

Two stories are the first from my friend, in the second he himself was a participant and a witness.

Betrayal and revenge

- Baikal, a weather station, cape of the deceased, and then, 30–40 kilometers, inhabitant (bay and small village), there was mined in the USSR (the world's first field). And one hunter - useless - missed a wounded man. Remember. And Like followed him. A good dog devoted to the owner. I caught up with a raisher and clung to his legs. It was more difficult for like to pursue; The deer was created to survive in such snow and run along them. Laika is already in the last breath, only for the sake of its owner. Almost an endless clung to her leg and knocked down. And at this time a connecting rod comes out, can you imagine? Happiness. There was no crop - no berries, no cones. However, as they later found out, this bear was wounded two years before, in general, he could not sleep without that.

Like lets out the leg with a raisher, and he has a unique structure, he can - rises and runs away. The dog remains, tired to death and alone with the bear. And this hunter, the huntsman, came up already and saw it all, from him and we know the details. Laika raises two paws and scratches the bear's face. The bear fucked up. She may have tried to defend herself, but there was no longer strength and, lying in the snow, paws - in the muzzle of a bear. Either strokes him, or trying to fight back. He sat down in dumbfound, looks at her. Maybe I would have soaked it. Or let go. Unknown. But a man with a gun appeared. And the bear hugged immediately, the guts fell out. The huntsman saw him tore her belly and sat on her. Well, he himself, the huntsman, was frightened - he said so. He admitted when he was drunk. He rolled to Baikal from this slope, lost his gun.

There was nothing in the inversion, no cattle. There was nothing even on the dead. Two cows at one time. And in the notal (village and meadow valley) there was a stomach. And three years after these events, the wolves suddenly began to cut cattle. They began to catch them - yeah. They only found out that a flock of four wolves. More precisely, this: of the three wolves, the fourth is a dog, and she is a leader. The wolf will not walk along a strange path. Not only in human, but even in animal will not go - nearby. And then on the trail is a clear dog trace. And next to - traces of wolves. They jumped up the path and walked a little left or the right of the dog.

Well, you understand? She survived the husky. But the man did nothing then, did not return after her, abandoned her. And the dog did not forgive the person.

And before that they killed a she -wolf there - they paid 200 rubles for wolf paws. The wolf cubs did not touch, they did not look for them. And the northern deer, by the way, was killed at the same time. The plan had to be passed-they beat the helicopters to load the Ulan-Udinsky plant. They said: these are accounts. No, they just crossed all on the Hamar-Daban. Well, we deviate. She survived her, called her friendship. And, apparently, with the wolf cubs of those orphaned and became the same family. And went to take revenge.

She left her trace as if on purpose. But I think so.

What to do, one exit remained at the locals - red flags. And the wolves of those three were killed, and the dog left. She was not afraid of flags, she knew everything about them, and her pupils could not. You hang purple ribbons, to flow yellow, blue - there will also be wolves to be shook, just a person needs blood, and he marks everything red.

... time passes. The Trapeznikov was, thank God, a man-in the 70s he, the chief mechanic of the Irkutsk factory of radio receivers, spat on everything, left for the upper Lena and remained in Canchur (tiny, inaccessible without a guide, from those places, from the deputy, not far-in a straight line on a map of 53 km). This is the one to whom Rasputin Valentin Grigoryevich approached, and he mows the grass. "Can you talk to you?" - "You go later, there will be time, so I will devote it." (Rasputin then came there again and again, he wrote: “If I can say that there were still paradise corners in the world, then one of them is Canchur.”)

The test pilot Thyryumin was born there, Hero of the Soviet Union, something else happened ... Trapeznikov determined the source of Lena, set the chapel there, they made an Easter move.

And so I got to him, and he tells me - I crouched, where he stood. Two years with Gak, he fought with a wolf one. And he is swearing - but it refers to nature well. Such a bastard, they say. Azart has a person already - he gave me a challenge! What he did not do to catch him, he fell out for hours in the cedar khvi in ​​order to completely beat off the smell of iron.

In the second year, Volchara stopped urging into his traps, began to shit in them, showing his contempt. And in the third year, this is what.

The end of April, the ice is about to grind, but while it is covered by water flowing from the southern slopes of the mountains. That is, 20 centimeters, and under it ice. And there were a meal there - under water, on the ice - put a trap, straightened it. And the wolf was caught.

I go down from the mountain, tells me, in Chanchical and I see five or six, I don’t remember, wolves and in the center - mine. Volchara. In the trap. Yes, and with two paws - it is generally surprising that the wolf hit so. He would, maybe, bit his paws. But then the trapeznikov came down. Volchara muttered his to leave. Those reluctantly, but - the order was received - they left.

And you imagine, he says, I go up to him with a gun, satisfied, and he does not even look at me. And only when he took the trigger, he turned to my face and read it in his eyes: yours took it, end me.

Why did you kill him, I ask. No, he was not going to live anymore-somehow he told me, and all on that.

This is the end of the story of my comrade and strict facts. Because the tail of that wolf, twisted in the ring, does not mean anything. Yes, this is a distinctive feature of the hybrid of the wolf and likes, such a Volkosob has even a separate name - the Volent. But neither my friend nor I saw with my own eyes the wolf. And then, where is the proof that he is the son of that very friendship?

Dead carcasses

The dog is not a friend of man. Our alter ego. Or even the soul of a person. It is not my thought, even the classics have a dog - a metaphor of both a person and his soul. Everything is like this: the best in us is not brains, not hands, just look at what surrounds us, what we invented and made.

And the soul cannot be described, but a beloved dog poked with a wet nose in your palms (here they are for us) gives us some idea of ​​us. What are we really.

If you remember this, it turns out that we will be allowed to experiment. They waited for the dawn of communism, then the flights to Mars, and waited for the legalization of animation and parting with the soul, the loss of humanity - everything goes to that. Those very classics, so loving oxymorons (compounds of the incomprehensible) in their titles - “dead souls”, for example, - apparently, they would write “dead carcasses” about us (they also loves tautology in the names - “poor people”).

In life, dogs every now and then turn out to be human than people. And children, old people, and men, and women, and not only lonely, in many quite prosperous families, the dog is the closest and most welcome relative. And not because the rest of the relatives is bad, but because you are your soul, the closest that there is here.

It is bitter and it is significant that our dogs die during our lifetime. You live, and live on.

The church refuses the animal’s soul categorically, but it is unlikely that I felt such a kinship with someone else, such an interpretation, all fibers connection.

Well, yes. The soul is a Christian, and they are pagan animals. With their expressive prayers, warning, frightening eyes. With their foreboding that will break.

Also not noticed by me - for a long time. And absolutely for sure: the dog and the owner are similar. Either they select each other, or they are transformed in the process. In order to copy parents, children need to grow up and begin to grow old, and dogs - almost immediately.

I don't know how it works. Well, here is an example. Madness is contagious, and its world is highly distinguished so that everyone will immediately see - like beauty and other dangerous things. We have such a couple in the next yard lived. A gray-haired, curly, corporate fool, and he looked quite foolish-in the captain's cap, in the summer and winter in this unchanged dirty cap with a visor-two oak branches, with a false chin-two cords embroidered with a golden pier, with two anchors on the cockade. And the German shepherd. She crazy with him immediately, as he started her, a puppy. This was visible at a distance. Borov with a tuberous snout and a spherical belly - and on a thick rope with multiple knots, tattered on top with aluminum wire, a nonsense dog - skinny at first (but even then from the ill health in every sense), then also heard. Their faces did not at all reflect their inner essence, in their eyes only the exhaustion was read and something else, obscure; The insanity in movements, limited only by the thickness of the bodies, issued madness.

They lasted a long time, eight years old. Once the shepherd again broke the ropes, rags, wire, knots, she was shot, and the captain disappeared.

Dogs and people are similar as people and their religions, in dogs there are a lot similar to our beliefs, and this not only comes from us, dogs - from the outside, and in religions not only human, this help us and comfort from the outside.

Soul or not a soul, but the very longing - when, on the contrary, when a dog experiences a person. Chrestomatic Hachiko. The story of Yuri Growth from Vnukovo Airport about the Palm Shepherd - not about death, about the betrayal of man. Fortunately, that dog with a torn ear was able to converge with other people, found a new house in Kyiv, in a large family.

Everyone knows how dogs are tormented when the owners leave them here. Soviet people who studied at the Soviet school and watched Soviet cinema firmly knew how it should: Hitler before killing himself, poisoned his shepherd with cyanide in potassium (they say, her puppy Wolf, but they spoke about this later). Someone probably suggests that Hitler had a soul, and he did not betray it.

One Love

And the second story, city, just about that. And not about that. She is inexplicable. In January 2016, for the first time, after graduation from school, we gathered really the whole class: we buried the class teacher, a medical teacher, Nadezhda Konstantinovna Nezhdanova (Melnikov). She taught us for two years - not only our last at school, the whole world in the last years (1982–1983 and 1983–1984), suddenly taking the class whom everyone was afraid (granddaughter of the first secretary of the regional committee, children of prosecutors and kagabashniks, chief physicians and dissident artists, all this golden, rotten youth with their discs, jeans, conversations). She was five years older than us. A year after our release, having learned another class that became her close to her, she returned to the Philfak - to teach. And she died at the age of 54 - and gathered us all with the death of us.

Before that, her legs were taken away. First, one and almost immediately - the other. It began with the insignificant. From her letter to me: “On the first day of vacation, I decided to make a Genusboard. The heel of her unfortunate right leg came on some type of fastener from the earring (damn it, and how it turned out to be there), burned with green-and go, the next day it began to hurt, and then the heel was smashed, the sensations were screwed into the inquisition on the inquisition, and the most bad-the temperature has been holding for 10 days. In short, all the charms of hell on vacation. Moreover, my Hippocratophobia broke out ... "

Then they will tell me that in reality, the student dropped her relic (like much at the Kurgan Philfak) iron chair. Don't know. They will say about her depression.

Be that as it may, this is not the point. And in deliberately not previously diagnosed (really did not believe medicine and was afraid of doctors) diabetes. She refused to recognize reality in our last conversation. She was cropped all, shortened to save. And she could not live with a stump, and when we raised her coffin, he turned out to be incredibly light. But everything was with her, and she was basketball and generally all grandiose, as her favorite lighthouse (V.V. Mayakovsky).

I think it’s easier with a dead teacher, so everyone got together. She loved us, believed in us, she changed us in those two years. If she was alive - what would we tell her after these thirty years, what would we report in that, 2016, when everything was already clear with us, and with a generation, and with the country? And then. What can be said to a person without legs?

And so - the awkwardness was overcome.

We carried the coffin without changing. Without giving it to students, graduates, graduate students. It was exclusively that our class is the only one where it was a class. And maybe this is due to: after the coffin on white towels already put special people into the grave, the same aunts, tearing these towels each for three, or something, gave us who carried the dead. Why, why? Like a symbolic fee?

Later they will tell me that such questions in our half -Old Believers are not asked. Well, yes, it is accepted, but at that moment it suddenly puzzled me. The next day, already closer to the evening - on the eve we started the commemoration, and finished a stormy meeting of the class (dark tavern in the basement of the Merchant House of the year before last) - I went again to the cemetery to leave this towel there, tie on the cross, like mourning ribbons on the wreaths, but where else is it? I read on the Internet that it is possible. Who threw him at the grave after the coffin, who kept at home as a memory, who tied to Radonitsa on the cross, so that the deceased would not return for someone. It was possible to tie after the commemoration. The next morning I had to go home, a ticket in my pocket.

Winter, a dog’s cold, was getting dark early, purple streets, then a few more miles in fact in the forest. A small dog ran behind the ajar gate of the cemetery, I did not react to me, but I did not consider it.

It would be completely dark at the fresh grave if the snow was not trampled around the edges, which was ice-fanning, which in turn was reflected by some kind of weak light from the earth, maybe from the same snow and ice, in general, wandering some infinitely weak glow.

On the grave among the armfuls of flowers lay a sheet from the school notebook in Russian, to the ruler. I did not raise him, I thought: a prayer written by a hand. But the gaze at some point fell. And there is the story of our class, those last two years - with it. And what happened next, after school, about the first dead from the class. And what else will happen. It seems to be about her, and about us, but with an incomprehensible distortion. Well. About the fact that the essays allowed us to write on Tyutchev, Fet and Blok. Why? No, maybe someone wrote to them, but they weren’t in her center, they were not the main ones. Blok - yes, Blok let it be. But not Tyutchev, not Fet. Further - about the fact that she treated us. In the literal sense: by applying hands, other different practices. I don't remember this. I treated, they say, and then buried ...

Yes, she treated us, sculpted us again, but these were only conversations, vigil, languor, books, long walks in the city champion. Our names are named - true.

I quickly turned around. Slowly could not, could not stand it. Who was written and for what? And who could write this? Behind me, steps at ten, there was a dog with human eyes-but it was me, I clearly wound myself that I could see something. The dog stood, in general. And she looked at me as if she were not a dog at all.

And then she darted to the side, rolled over in a dim ice light from the crosses and disappeared. I knew that Nadezhda Konstantinovna lived Kerry Blue Terier Darik (she also consisted of e -mail from his behalf), but nine months before her death he died. So she wrote. Without details. Quote: “Well, then they went specifically through Chelyabinsk, where I acquired a earlier happiness in the nursery - the dog of Papiyon. (My Darik died in April, and I was very bad.) So now I have a child in my arms - the girl Floris Belle Diamant from Prince Ghlyuchea. ”

I don't understand these decorative animals. Then I did not know this either (later they would tell me) that she bought this expensive Ushastik almost to the entire governor's prize, then awarded to her.

And the Irish blue terriers are excellent dogs, and it seemed to me that it was he. Darik.

No, but where would the January late in the evening in the remote cemetery of the city of Kurgan to take another Irish blue terrier?

And as if in the fall, then it smelled: minus 25 was, darkness, and - the smell of a foliage suddenly, herbal remains. He rose from the snow. The smell of the earth and roots, and aspen bark, although only in the flowers lay only a sinking small lump of raw bright yellow clay. And the same yellow sick moon rolled out of the pine crown.

It will take a few more years, it will be required to find out why a person spends the money received from this power, not on examination and treatment, but on the purchase of a dog.

In April 2022, the journalist Mikhail Afanasyev, my comrade, will be imprisoned in Abakan - “For the distribution of fakes”: at the beginning he wrote how and why 11 Rosgvardians of Khakassia refused to participate in the special operation. Сидит до сих пор, дали 5,5 года колонии и 2,5 года запрета на профессию — несмотря на то, что факт отказа омоновцев подтвердился (их уволили приказом от 21.03.2022 «в связи с совершением проступка, порочащего честь сотрудника войск Нацгвардии»). Меж тем закон , распространяющий ответственность по статьям УК 207.3 и 280.3 о фейках и дискредитации армии на высказывания о Росгвардии и росгвардейцах, примут только в декабре 2023-го. К тому моменту Афанасьев отсидит уже 1 год и 8 месяцев.

Естественно, я вел хронику, выяснял всех причастных к этой петле времени. И вот что выяснил. Следком формально руководствовался логикой абаканского лингвиста и психолога Ольги Якоцуц — она проводила предварительное исследование (комплексное психолого-лингвистическое — выступила и как психолог, и как лингвист, комплексно). В том числе на основе этого исследования, задокументировавшего «противоправные действия Афанасьева», уголовное дело и появилось.

До этого Якоцуц уже выступала в делах против Афанасьева и других журналистов — например, именно она писала экспертизы против псковской журналистки Светланы Прокопьевой, против защитницы хакасской культуры Лидии Баиновой. Огромная загадка все эти экспертизы: если это эксперты, то есть люди знающие, понимающие русский язык и литературу, они в принципе не могут написать ничего в пользу охранки, политического сыска, в пользу тех, кто преследует и судит за слова. Nevertheless. Когда стал искать, кто выучил такой спецфилологии и спецлингвистике эксперта Якокуц, она же руководитель физкультурно-оздоровительного центра эксплуатационного локомотивного депо Абакан-2, в судебных решениях обнаружил , что та «прошла курсы повышения квалификации на базе АНО «Академия дополнительного образования» г. Курган по дополнительной профессиональной программе «Судебно-лингвистическая экспертиза» (удостоверение № 1443)».

Идти в разысканиях дальше боялся, Курган — родной город, я отлично понимал, что среди преподавателей могут высветиться знакомые фамилии. Или еще что.

Мне скажут: да. Она сама писала такие экспертизы. Совсем недолго — как раз перед тем как слечь и уже не подняться. (Думаю, это случилось после того, как погиб Дарик. Душа он был или нет, но думаю, было так.)

Ее снедала печаль. Безденежье, невостребованность, упадок всеобщий, весь этот курганский фон. Она принимала экзамены вступительные у будущих инженеров (их набор все увеличивали), и ее удручал уровень их подготовки.

Я не видел ее экспертизы и видеть не хочу. Я уверен, что они честные и не в пользу обвинителей.

Близкий к Надежде Константиновне человек сказал: ненавижу собак. Если бы она вместо этой Флорис Белль Диамант, этого утешения, потратила деньги на обследование, все, все могло быть иным! Такова «роль собаки в жизни»! И в смерти.

А я понимаю, почему собака, а не врачи.

И вот эти глаза из кладбищенской темноты, смотрящие на тебя.

Собаки, возможно, и душа. Или больше — выжимка из нее, любовь одна. Доверие, верность, безоглядность. Смотря, конечно, чья душа. Но факт — мы так сильно связаны с ними, что и представить не можем.

* * *

У нас, к сведению депутатов, до сих пор все дети в школе читают «Муму». А Герасим, утопив Муму (душу), как известно, от барыни ушел и порвал вообще все связи с жизнью, какой она у него была до того. Кстати говоря, и барыня вскоре умерла. «А наследникам ее было не до Герасима: они и остальных-то матушкиных людей распустили по оброку».

Депутатам помимо пояснительной записки к законопроекту хорошо бы перечитать: «…деревня, из которой барыня его взяла, лежала всего в двадцати пяти верстах от шоссе. Он шел по нем с какой-то несокрушимой отвагой, с отчаянной и вместе радостной решимостью. Он шел; широко распахнулась его грудь; глаза жадно и прямо устремились вперед. Он торопился, как будто мать-старушка ждала его на родине, как будто она звала его к себе после долгого странствования на чужой стороне, в чужих людях…»

Этот текст вышел во втором номере журнала «Новое обозрение».