Galina Petrovna's Three-Legged Dog Story

by Andrea Bennett

  Vasya nodded slightly. ‘Put things right. I see. In case I die here.’

  ‘So, I’m sorry, Vasya. There, I’ve said it. You’ll get nothing more, mind.’ Baba Plovkina gave Vasya a long, hard look, and then jumped to her feet. She arranged her headscarf, took up her sickle from the coffee table, nodded to the Kommandant, made a disgusted, tutting sound at her son and Katya, and scuttled for the door.

  ‘Zhenya, wait! We need to talk!’ Vasya struggled to push himself to his feet, wallowing in the clutches of the beanbag and flailing with desperate hands.

  ‘Mother!’ Mitya leapt from his chair, but stopped as she turned in the open doorway, held frozen in the air by her stare.

  ‘We’ve talked. The truth is known. That’s all there is! Don’t trouble me more!’ and with that, the elderly little citizen slammed the door behind her.

  ‘All those years,’ said Vasya again, and collapsed face down into the recently vacated, still-warm beanbag, gasping like a landed carp.

  ‘All those years,’ echoed Mitya. ‘I can’t believe it. He really was my father. It’s just … so wrong. I was ready …’ Mitya remained a statue in the centre of the room.

  ‘Kommandant Krapivin, I think we need more lemon tea, quickly. Please, could you provide some? I’m worried about my … comrades, here,’ as Galia spoke she motioned Katya to help her raise Vasya from where he had fallen. Together, the two women gently drew the old man back to his feet, straightened his shirt and shuffled him across the room to Galia’s leather tub chair, carefully folding him into it. He whimpered slightly.

  ‘There, there, Vasya, a little sit-down and a cup of lemon tea will soon have you right.’ Galia didn’t know whether this was really the case, but the words had to be said on an occasion such as this.

  ‘My goodness, this morning has been so … emotional! I feel drained – but exhilarated. Do you find it cathartic, Galina Petrovna, this kind of thing?’ The Kommandant was almost frothing at the mouth and Galina was glad when she heard the door slam after him as he went to fetch the tea.

  Mitya still stood by the red door, staring at the space where his mother had briefly stood. Katya took his hands in hers and softly moved her thumbs over the sticky brown scabs that decorated most of his knuckles. ‘It’s OK, puppy. Does it matter who your daddy was? It’s you who makes you.’

  ‘But I was ready to think …’ Mitya couldn’t complete the sentence.

  ‘Did you really want Vasya to be your daddy?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just thought … that was the truth. It felt right! It felt better than …’ Mitya stopped and turned his face away. ‘He killed my Sharik, Katya. He put him in the well.’

  She gently led him away from the door and laid him down on the warm beanbag, sitting down beside him and cradling his face in her hands.

  ‘I know. Sharik must have been a very brave dog. But the brave are always with us, Mitya. He’s always been there, in your heart. Can you feel him?’

  ‘I don’t know. For a long time there was nothing, Katya: nothing at all. But now – I think I can feel him. I’m sure I met him this morning, you know, when we stopped to pee. Sharik came to me – in a butterfly. Under that tree.’

  Katya put her head on one side and probed Mitya’s eyes with her own velvet gaze.

  ‘Well, that’s lovely, Mitya. He’s still there for you, then.’

  ‘My head hurts.’ Mitya closed his eyes and nuzzled his face in to Katya’s armpit. She smelt of soap and cigarette smoke and the sea.

  ‘OK, everyone, here’s the tea! And I want everyone – no exceptions – to have some this time. Julia, you be mother, and give everyone sugar too: we could all use a sugar hit. I know I could.’

  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!’

  27

  The End

  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?’

  Mitya sniffed and scraped his feet across the metal floor of the lorry.

  ‘Galina Petrovna, I am very sorry, but you may be right. Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that your dog is still alive. Once the canines, I mean dogs, are logged in the system, issued their papers and taken to the collective holding kennels, they are usually destroyed within a day or so. Sometimes en-masse.’

  ‘Destroyed en-masse, eh, Mitya?’ asked Zoya with a frown.

  ‘Yes, Zinaida Artyomovna. It is more … cost effective.’

  ‘So you, Katya, what do you think of your hero now? Destroying old ladies’ dogs en-masse, eh? A fine business to be expert in.’

  Katya hesitated. ‘I think he deserves a second chance, Zinaida Artyomovna, as we all do.’ She put her arm through Mitya’s, and clasped his hand.

  Zoya looked away. ‘I’ll tell you something: my arse is going to be black and blue after this, Galia,’ and she cackled briefly like a delinquent chicken with a flick knife.

  The occupants of the KAMAZ fell into silence, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Around them, it seemed that an autumn dusk was falling, as myriad downy particles twisted in the atmosphere, catching the light of the distant sun and turning it hazy, rusted and flat. Krapivin spotted Plovsk in the distance, and let out a yelp. The town squatted on a dank hillside, and as they approached they made out assorted chimneys painted in giant red-and-white checks dotting the smog that appeared to be excreted from every pore of the town. Multiple fiery suns waited to set on a dozen different knolls around the hill top, each one burning red and gold, each at the end of a crackling tube reaching out into the solid air, still and heavy as concrete, or perhaps Zoya’s scrambled eggs. That air presided over the town with an unspoken threat to squeeze the life out of its inhabitants at any time it chose. There were no visible people: maybe this was why.

  ‘Boy, this town really gives me the creeps! It’s so – murky!’ Kommandant Krapivin rolled his eyes meaningfully before bringing them back to the road ahead and the horizon. ‘Hey, anyone know which way we go now?’

  ‘Straight on, Kommandant, straight on,’ Mitya instructed. He knew the way to the holding facility quite well. When he had started out in extermination he had been a frequent visitor, although in recent years it had been left to others to convey the dogs to their final destination. He thought about his van this week. On Thursday it had been full to the roof with dog-kind. There had even been a poodle among his catch, some mongrel puppies, and an unwanted arthritic dachshund. The latter had bitten him on the ankle at the start of the day. It had made him very angry, he recalled. He probably still had the dry remnants of the scab there, under his sock. He glanced at Katya, wanted to touch her cheek, call her kitten, have her wash him with her eyes, absolve him of his shame, but she was staring out of the window, her face blankly reflecting the desolation around her. Mitya wondered if she had ever been to Plovsk before.

  ‘OK, after the factory on the left.’

  ‘The glue factory?’

  ‘Yes, the glue factory …’

  They were just in time to witness a ragged collection of broken-down horses being fed in through the factory gates by small, mal-formed herders. One of the horses reared up a couple of feet in a last, futile act of resistance and rolled its eyes towards the heavy sky. Galia pressed her handkerchief to her mouth and stifled a slight moan. Mitya cleared his throat.

  ‘After the glue factory, take the next left and follow the road round, until you come to a big set of black chain gates. You can’t miss it.’ Mitya rubbed his eyes, very cautiously, with a swollen fist, and winced. He was glad the sound of the engine had drowned out the whinnying of the horse. Why were animals boiled down into glue, but people weren’t? He didn’t get anything anymore. He would ask Katya about it later.

  ‘OK, hero, I got it: whoah, here it is!’ The Kommandant braked hard and swung the heavy KAMAZ around the corner, almost launching Zoya over the driver’s seat and out of the window in the process.

  ‘Citizen Kommandant!’ she cawed from the blackness of the floor. ‘I did not survive the Great Patriotic War, Khrushchev, Brezhnev and the others that now escape my memory in order to be sent on my way by you! Especially not in Plovsk! What would people say?’

  ‘Zoya, Zoya, just hold on to me, I’ll keep you safe.’ Galia fished her friend up from the darkness and hair balls and, dusting her off lightly, wedged her back into place on the bench seat between herself and Vasya, who was mumbling something in his sleep, his head rolling against the side
of the lorry. ‘We don’t want to lose you, especially not in Plovsk,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s a hell of a place.’

  The open gates, just as Mitya had described, came in to view and they passed under what was left of the sign before the KAMAZ slowed to a standstill in the empty yard of Municipal Incinerator No. 4. The Kommandant cut the engine and the group slowly spilled out on to the tarmac, their coughs and complaints echoing lonely in their ears against a background of almost nothing: there were no cries of birds, or children, or dogs. The only sound was a distant rumble, somewhere in the woods, or maybe under the streets themselves, a rumble and a vibration, as if something terribly huge and heavy was beating every so often against something else terribly huge and heavy, in a cave. The vibration had shaken the leaves from the trees: even in August, Galia observed, the branches were bare and grey. No wonder there were no birds.

  ‘OK, are we all here? Mitya, you look half dead – you better buck your ideas up, buddy. Zoya – put that dream catcher away, I don’t think that can help us now. Volubchik – maybe you can stay by the vehicle and guard it? I’m sorry we forgot your walking sticks and all, but you know – it’s turning into one of those days.’ Kommandant Krapivin paused and scanned the faces arranged around him. ‘OK, so, we’re clear about what the dog looks like, yeah? Three legs, long tail, brown eyes. Which way, gang? Galia? Mitya?’

  ‘Oh, Kommandant! How should I know? I’m just an old lady from Azov.’

  ‘Woah, where did that come from?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kommandant, you’ve been very kind, but … I’m scared. Really scared.’

  ‘Come on, Galina Petrovna, there’s no need to be scared, I’ll look after you!’ Katya put her arm through Galia’s and looked into her eyes. ‘I won’t let you see anything bad, Galina Petrovna, trust me. But we have to look. Everyone, let’s just try! Let’s look! Let’s split up!’

  ‘Yes, Galia, there is no time to be scared. We’re all here for you. I will wait here by the lorry and as soon as you come out with Boroda, I will be ready to help you back into the lorry and away. Just like the last time in Azov, remember? We’ve done it before. Don’t be afraid.’ Vasya smiled at her warmly.