Andrea Bennett: Galina Petrovna's Three-Legged Dog Story

Julia beamed as she handed out the grey regulation SIZO cups and saucers. Today was so much more entertaining than usual.

Vasya, from his perch in a leatherette tub chair, reached down a gentle hand to Mitya’s shoulder, and pressed it slightly. ‘Mitya, I want you to know that I am sorry. I’m sorry I never could help you and your mother. It’s not important… that I now find out that you weren’t, technically, erm, my son. I always thought that you were, and I always regretted failing you.’ The hand began to shake, and Vasya made a slight sobbing sound.

Mitya pressed the hand on his shoulder and looked up in to the old teacher’s face. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Vasily Semyonovich. You did your best. For what it’s worth, I am finally going to take your advice.’

‘What advice, my boy?’ Vasya looked slightly perplexed.

‘I’m going to become a vet.’

‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, now you’ve all got your tea, I’d like to say a few words. We’ve had disputed parents, government ministers, madness, sickles, alcoholism, someone who was just pretty annoying (and not a spy or homosexual), and somewhere along the line we’ve had lots of mention of dogs—’

‘Oh my God, Boroda!’ Galia dropped her regulation SIZO cup and saucer on to the lino with a thud.

‘If you don’t mind, Galina Petrovna, I was speaking—’

‘We have to rescue Boroda! We’ve been fussing around here about babies and fathers and all that nonsense, and we’ve got a dog to rescue! My dog!’ Galia’s chest heaved as she started to gather up her bag with shaking hands and elbowed her friend in the face, somewhat forcefully. ‘Come on, Zoya!’

Zoya had been napping quietly in her bucket chair for a good five minutes.

‘Faggots with jam!’ she yelped, before blinking rapidly as the room came back in to focus, and wincing at the brightness all around her. She had stood to attention immediately at the steely tone in her friend’s voice and now wavered slightly in the breeze. She waved away the lemon tea proffered by Julia.

‘I thought I was somewhere else. Have you got any beer?’ she croaked. ‘I was having ever such a funny dream.’

At the mention of Boroda, Vasya had stiffened.

‘Rescue the dog… of course, Galina Petrovna, I must help you! I feel, it is my duty… no, not duty, my honour, to help you recover your valiant dog. Please, Kommandant, may I be released to help rescue the dog? I beg you – I will come back afterwards to serve out my time.’

‘Valiant dog!’ Mitya echoed, replacing his teacup in its saucer with a solid, regulation tinkle.

‘It is also my honour to help you rescue your dog, Galina Petrovna, if it is not too late, and if you will allow. It may, I hope, start to make amends for my inhuman behaviour of the past. “ Pipple ar pipple ”, Galina Petrovna!’ And Mitya winked at Galia. She had no idea what he was talking about, but he seemed to be on her side, and seemed to mean it.

‘Yes, Vasya, yes, Mitya. Yes, Kommandant, she is a valiant dog. She only has three legs, but she is a brave, and very polite, dog.’

‘Was it this guy put her in the clink?’ the Kommandant pointed at Mitya.

‘Yes, it was. She bit him, you see, and Officer Kulakov. She was defending me. She wouldn’t normally dream of biting anyone.’

‘Do you have a piece of paper from Glukhov exonerating her as well as this Volubchik?’

‘Oh yes, she is included in the VIP, Kommandant.’

‘Tremendous!’

‘We must go to Plovsk, Galina Petrovna. That’s where the… er, the canine facility is.’ Mitya looked uncomfortable and bit a fingernail. ‘I truly hope it’s not too late.’

‘So, what are we waiting for? Let’s bust her out of jail! Come on, gang! We can take the KAMAZ truck – we should all fit in that. It’s a monster!’

The group began to gather their bags and fruit and make for the door.

‘Exonerating me? Am I exonerated?’ Vasya looked to Galia with hopeful grey eyes.

‘Yes, Vasya, I think probably in most respects, you are exonerated.’

‘Glory be!’

In an echoing flat on a tree-lined boulevard in Moscow, a young man with a floppy fringe and tattered slippers was getting very cross indeed.

‘Look, Angelika, I don’t care how many toe nails you’ve got left to paint, come and get your damned dog from my apartment!’ He flicked dead flies from the windowsill to the floor as he spoke, and felt them crunch under his feet as he paced, somewhat gingerly, to and fro.

The Chinese Shar Pei, or ‘ugly dog’ as Kolya thought every time he looked at it, had parked its not inconsiderable backside in front of the apartment door two hours ago, and would not budge. It sat wrapped in its sandy-coloured, wrinkled skin and kept its tiny piggy eyes locked on to Kolya, tracking his every movement from its vantage-point in the hall. He’d tempted it with morsels from the kitchen, but had been repelled with some force. He’d stood on the other side of the hallway and shouted at it, while pointing in the direction he wanted it to go. It did nothing but let out a small, noxious fart. And now Kolya was phoning its mistress.

‘No, Angelika, I’m not afraid of it!’ Kolya let out a whinnying laugh and gave the dog a small sideways glance as he lied to the girl next door. ‘But I have to tell you it has already attempted to bite me – twice – when I’ve tried to shift its enormous backside away from my front door, and now I’ve got a family emergency on my hands.’

He listened as his neighbour’s voice whined down the telephone line at him. She was explaining that she could not come and collect the dog right now, as she had a date, and could Kolya be a darling and just hold on to him till midnight. ‘And he doesn’t have an enormous backside, Kolya. He’s a total pedigree and he cost a lot of money. You’re just being rude. Are you jealous?’

‘Angelika, I can’t have the dog till then. My Elderly Citizen has been arrested at the airport for carrying an illegal handgun, and I have to go and get him released. I have a whole mountain of papers I have to take and—’

She replied that she hadn’t a clue who the Elderly Citizen was, but that she was sure they’d keep good care of him until tomorrow. And with that, she replaced the receiver and carried on painting her nails.

Kolya replaced the telephone on the crumb-strewn table and was aware that the dog was watching him.

‘Just get out of the way, will you?’ he shouted across the room, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

‘Woof’ said the dog in a deep bass, followed by a gentle show of yellow teeth and a low snarl.

‘Drive, Kommandant, drive!’

As soon as the Kharkov to Rostov express, also known as the Khaki Arrow, had completed pulverising the points at the level crossing, Zoya was leaning over Krapivin’s shoulder, pointing the way, the fingers of her left hand digging into his shoulder.

‘I’m driving, Elderly Citizen, I’m driving!’

‘Galia, my dear, don’t give up hope. We’ll be there in an instant, do not fret. I feel it in my bones: and look – there’s a black cat crossing our path! That is a good omen. Hey, Kommandant! Mind that black cat! Hey, hey!’ Zoya covered her eyes with the hand that wasn’t gripping the back of his seat as the Kommandant swerved hard right on to the pavement to avoid the said lucky charm, which had decided to stop and wash its bum in the middle of the deeply pitted road.

‘Zoya, do you really think it’s not too late? I was so full of hope when we were in Moscow but now… now I just feel like I’ve been a fool. Of course she has gone: she has been in the system since Tuesday and there’s no way that the State is going to pay for dog food for five days for a dog that the President wants dead. That’s so, isn’t it, Mitya?’