When will this ever end? One thing after another. I’ll send you to your father to be raised by him,” she muttered under her breath.
“Mom, can I ride the scooter in the yard with Vanka?”
“I know how you’ll ride. And where am I supposed to find you afterwards?” Ksenia grumbled.
Two days ago, they had skipped the yard without permission—she and Vanka. Ksenia had found them in the park, zooming around with some adult guys. Back then, she had a huge row with her son and promised that if it happened again, she would send him off to his father for re-education.
“Honestly, I promise I won’t leave the yard without permission.” Her son looked at her with pleading eyes—eyes as honest and pure as the cat from “Shrek.”
“Alright, but be careful, don’t knock anyone over, and make sure to yield to cars,” she relented.
“I promise!” Dan’ka joyfully vowed.
“If you leave the yard, you will never again go out alone—understood?” Ksenia shouted toward the hallway. Dan’ka immediately scurried away before she could change her mind. Instead of answering, the front door slammed shut as he departed.
School had ended, and the long-awaited vacation began. At ten years old, there’s no desire to sit at home; one wants to spend hours strolling and riding a scooter with friends. In the summer, you can dress very lightly—shorts and a t-shirt, slip your feet into sneakers, and dash outside.
Ksenia walked over to the kitchen window. Soon, Dan’ka emerged from the building with his scooter. Vanka soon joined him. The friends huddled together, discussing something. Ksenia watched them circle the yard for a while before returning to the stove. It was time to add the potatoes to the simmering broth. Still glancing out at the boys, and finally feeling reassured, she began frying onions and carrots…
“He won’t run away anywhere. That last scandal worked to my advantage. Besides, he knows I’m watching from the window. But what about tomorrow, when I’m not home… There’s no need to worry in advance. As long as he behaves, then what? In two or three years, no promises or oaths will hold him back. I’ll just tighten the screws—and it’ll only get worse. He’ll start lying and running away from home. And then he’ll go out with the girls… How can I possibly cope with all that? And my husband doesn’t give a damn…”
At the mere thought of her husband, an old, bleeding wound of hurt resentment reopened—one that had never yet healed.
She had believed that their love would last a lifetime. She hadn’t listened to her mother and rushed into marriage. And what happened? Within a year, her husband cheated on her with one of her friends, they divorced, and he even lost custody of his son. Dan’ka became completely unnecessary to him. He wouldn’t even pay alimony willingly. Once a year on his birthday he brings a gift—but she always tells him in advance exactly what to buy, or else he’ll get the cheapest toy car. In her eyes, the alimony was enough.
While the sauté of onions, carrots, and peppers was simmering in the pan, the doorbell rang. Ksenia froze, spatula in hand.
“Dan’ka? He has keys. Lost them? Or…”
She dashed to the window. “There are fewer children and moms in the yard now. It’s lunch time and nap time for the little ones. But where are Vanka and Dan’ka?”
All these thoughts flashed through her mind in a split second, and then came a more insistent ring.
Certain that something was wrong, Ksenia flung open the door. Standing at the threshold was Dan’ka—clutching one of his hands with the other, his eyes cast downward, frightened and guilty.
“I knew it! What happened?” Ksenia asked.
Perhaps her eyes widened like saucers because, terrified, Dan’ka quickly babbled,
“Just don’t scold me. Nothing serious happened—I fell off the scooter.”
Ksenia examined her son’s hand. On both the palm and the back, she noticed bite marks with blood seeping through the cuts.
“The dog bit me,” Dan’ka said, trying to pull his hand away.
“What dog? Are you so little that you should be messing with stray dogs?”
He had been crazy about puppies and kittens lately, always begging for one. But Ksenia was unyielding. “What dog? You’re in the garden and I’m at work—there aren’t any dogs at home all day. A dog will chew everything up, and we simply can’t afford to replace our furniture and things. When you grow up, you can have as many as you want, but for now, I’m the boss in this house…” she recalled.
“She’s not a stray; she has a collar. She lives in our yard, in the neighboring nine-story building.”
“So where’s her owner? Why did she bite you? Maybe she’s rabid or sick?”
Ksenia was so frightened by the idea that she even forgot to close the apartment door. Soon, she heard heavy footsteps approaching and the sound of labored breathing.
“I could barely keep up,” said a plump woman as she tried to catch her breath. “I wanted to catch up, but how can you catch someone? Whew…” she gasped. “Some women rushed over and said Gudvin bit your son. But your son is to blame… The women saw it—he was poking it with a stick. And the dog is a domestic one; he’s had all his vaccinations and has proper papers—though they belong to his owner. Gudvin isn’t rabid…”
The woman recounted all this in broken sentences, struggling against her own shortness of breath.
“So you aren’t the owner of the dog? Why do you let the dog roam freely in the yard? It could have bitten little children!” Ksenia fumed.
“The dog is kind and calm—it wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Your son is to blame. He shouldn’t have been poking it with a stick…” the woman repeated. “Water, please?”
Ksenia brought her a glass of water. While the woman drank noisily, Ksenia declared that she would report this to the police—it simply couldn’t be allowed, and the dog needed to be put down before it bit anyone else.
“Oh my God, we need to go to the hospital…” Ksenia dashed off to get the phone.
While returning to the hallway and dialing numbers on the phone, she bumped into the hobbling woman. It felt as if she had collided with a soft duvet.
“He isn’t rabid, do you understand? You need to have him put down! Your son hurt him. When the owner returns, then talk to him—but without him, I won’t allow Gudvin to be put down…” the woman insisted.
“There’s no owner; the dog roams on its own—so it’s a stray,” Ksenia replied, ceasing her dialing.
“She’s a domestic dog. I’m temporarily looking after her while her owner is on a business trip. He’s kind and good… And it’s hard for me to walk with her. So, I let her out. Everyone who lives in the building gets the door opened for them, and Gudvin climbs the stairs and scratches at our door. A smart dog. You should be the one put down for speaking like that—and your son too, so he stops poking the dog with a stick.”
“I wasn’t poking her—I was teaching her to pick up a stick,” Dan’ka interjected.
“You didn’t see it yourselves; the grandmothers by the entrance told you, didn’t they? They’ll say even worse…”
“Taxi? Patrol Road, House Seventeen… To the clinic… Thanks.”
Ksenia removed the phone from her ear and started toward the kitchen, from where she had long smelled burnt onions.
“A stray dog bit a child, and you’re defending it. Get off the road!” she shouted at the woman who was blocking the entire doorway.
The woman, frightened, recoiled—wobbling with her extra weight and clearing the passage to the kitchen. Ksenia turned off the gas, removed her apron, and stepped into the hallway, only to find the space still occupied by the woman.
“Just get out already! I can’t get past you!” Ksenia roared. The woman awkwardly turned and squeezed her way out the door.
In the heat of irritation, anxiety, and fear for her son, Ksenia grabbed her purse with one hand and took hold of Dan’ka’s bitten hand with the other. He shrieked in pain.
“Sorry, let’s go quickly—the taxi is waiting.”
They left the apartment, and Ksenia locked the door behind them.
At the very bottom of the staircase, she turned toward the plump woman pressed against the wall.
“Tell the owner that when he returns, I’m not going to let this stand.”
Abruptly, Ksenia turned and hurried down the stairs, urging Dan’ka along.
All the way in the taxi to the hospital, she scolded her son,
“When will this ever end? One thing after another. I’ll send you to your father to be raised by him,” she muttered under her breath.
The doctor treated Dan’ka’s hand and asked about the dog. Dan’ka quickly explained that Gudvin was a domestic dog with all his vaccinations and that he was at fault. The doctor sent them home with some recommendations and a warning to stay away from dogs.
“That’s it, my patience has run out. You will stay home if you can’t behave properly,” Ksenia declared to her son back home.
Dan’ka felt hurt and went off to his room, while Ksenia returned to the kitchen to finish making the soup.
“My hands, come eat lunch,” she commanded, glancing into her son’s room an hour later.
She watched him eat, and her heart filled with a mix of tenderness, the overwhelming desire to protect him from everything, irritation, and anger toward her son. He seemed grown-up, yet so little. When will he truly mature? At the same time, she chided herself, knowing that even if he were at fault, she couldn’t possibly punish him to death—or kill the poor dog. She was behaving like a frantic, hysterical mother. But she was a mother—naturally, she worried and cared for her son. She was ready to fight for him rather than merely shout.
“Not another step out of the house—understood? If I come home from work tomorrow and someone complains about you again, I will definitely send you to your father,” Ksenia threatened once again.
She knew in her heart she was wrong—it wasn’t right to use his father as a tool for punishment. But when you’re raising a son on your own without a husband, every means is justified to impose order. He might not remember his father now, but let him fear him.
“All right,” Dan’ka mumbled as he went to his room.
Ksenia washed the dishes, scrubbing the plates with a towel and placing them on the rack with a clink. The steam was gone now, and she needed to calm herself down. What had gotten into her? She recalled when Dan’ka was about six years old and had fallen headfirst from a slide. She had been right there but couldn’t protect him. She had called her mother, and Ksenia had been distracted. That memory was terrifying—even now, she could still see Dan’ka bending over the railing, falling headfirst. It was a miracle he had gotten away with it; he could have broken his neck, seriously injured his head, or worse.
How can you protect them from everything? And as he grows older, he’ll more often be on his own without her. He might start smoking, hanging out with the wrong crowd, dating girls… My God, how scared I am for him. It is so hard to be a mother without overdoing it. Where can I find the patience? If only I had a husband… But what can I say about something that isn’t there?
Later, she went into her son’s room. Dan’ka was sitting on the bed reading a book. Ksenia sat down beside him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so afraid and worried about you. I can’t live without you. You are everything I have,” she said softly.
“And you forgive me too, Mom.”
Ksenia hugged him and ran her hand through his spiky, short-cropped hair. He didn’t turn his head away as he usually did, instead offering a quiet, “Well, Mom…” He understood that it was better now to accept her affection. Ksenia’s heart filled with tenderness for her son.
“Does your hand still hurt?” she asked gently.
“No… just a little.”
Two days later, while Ksenia was preparing dinner, the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, she saw a tall man with a small dog on a leash at his feet.
“Good evening. Was your son bitten by Gudvin?”
“Come in,” Ksenia replied.
“Hello! How are you feeling?” the man asked as he glanced past Ksenia. When she turned, she saw Dan’ka standing in the doorway.
“I’m alright,” he answered.
“I’m sorry about what happened…” the man began, but Ksenia interrupted him sharply.
“Sorry? And what if he had bitten children on the playground? Why get a dog if you’re always away on business trips? He’ll end up roaming like a stray…”
The man listened, unable to look away from Ksenia. She blushed and fell silent; once again, he had jumped in too quickly. She always condemned those mothers who would immediately lash out at the offender without understanding who was really at fault. And what about her?
“The neighbor said your son is to blame. After all, it’s just a dog—its teeth are its only weapon of defense and attack. Your son isn’t so little that he wouldn’t understand that. I apologize for Gudvin and for myself. I’m willing to compensate for the moral damage.”
“And how much do you put a price on my son’s health? Or is the dog more important to you than your child? Do you really think everything can be measured in money?” Ksenia’s anger only grew.
“I came here to apologize—to talk things over amicably—and you… a hysterical woman,” the man said.
“I’m not hysterical! I’m a mother!” Ksenia cried, her anger nearly choking her. “Enough! I don’t want to see you or your dog. Stay away from us. Your dog will soon become a stray, and then…”
“You’re right. My wife and I never had children. So she bought herself a puppy instead of a child. Then she married another man and left, and she intended to surrender the dog to a shelter. Gudvin was no longer needed by her. Her new husband is allergic to cats and dogs. I felt sorry for Gudvin, so I kept him and asked a neighbor to look after him. I didn’t realize it would be so difficult for her. I’m sorry.”
With that, he abruptly left. Ksenia closed the door, fighting the urge to slam it hard.
“What nerve. Coming here… I don’t care about his wife. And I’m just as good,” she fumed to herself. “Hysterical.”
Returning from work, Ksenia often saw the man with Gudvin on a leash in the courtyard. He would nod to her, but she would turn her head as if not to see him—cursing herself, helpless to change anything.
About two weeks later, early on a Sunday morning, the doorbell rang in the apartment. Ksenia rose from bed, threw on her robe, and, still disheveled from sleep, opened the door. There, once again, stood the owner—Gudvin’s owner—with the little dog on a leash. Ksenia was so surprised she almost forgot what he looked like.
“You?” she asked, her question lacking any originality.
“For God’s sake, forgive me. I don’t have your phone number, or I would have called you,” the man said. Both he and the dog looked at her guiltily and meekly.
“I need to leave for a few days, and there’s no one to take care of Gudvin. I’m already afraid to leave him with Valentina, the neighbor. So, I decided to ask you to look after him. I don’t know who else to turn to—I’ve brought everything with me. Your son can walk him; they get along very well.”
“Gudvin!” Dan’ka’s joyful voice rang out from behind. The dog dashed toward him, wagging its tail so vigorously it nearly knocked him over. Dan’ka crouched down as the dog licked his face.
“And since when did you two become friends?” Ksenia asked aloud.
“We go for walks together all the time. So, would you take him in for a while?”
“Mom!” Dan’ka pleaded, looking at Ksenia with wide, imploring eyes—he even reminded her of that cat from “Shrek,” standing in nothing but his underwear and a t-shirt.
“What am I going to do with you all?” Ksenia smiled.
The man handed over the leash and began explaining how often to feed the dog and what time to walk him.
“Dan’ka knows everything,” he said dismissively with a wave. “I need to go now, or I’ll miss my plane.”
Ksenia watched as Dan’ka played with the dog and thought that perhaps this was for the best. Now Dan’ka had a friend and wouldn’t be running off into the yard. Moreover, Vanka had left for the summer house, and looking after a little buddy would benefit her son—let him learn to be responsible for another living creature.
Gudvin turned out to be an exceptionally gentle creature, and Dan’ka was happy. Ksenia soon got used to Gudvin—she no longer jumped at the sound of his paws on the laminate floor at night. She softened and stopped getting angry at the dog. Dan’ka’s hand had long since healed, and soon the owner would return to take Gudvin back. Ksenia already knew she would miss him.
A week later, Gudvin’s owner stood on the doorstep with a backpack over his shoulder and a gift bag in his hand. He greeted her with a smile; his teeth shone brilliantly white against his deeply tanned face. He extended the gift bag to her.
“Please, you really don’t have to,” Ksenia protested.
“Just take it. It’s from Gudvin and me.”
Inside the bag was a beautiful seashell and a box of chocolates.
The owner knelt down and patted the dog that had rushed over. Gudvin nudged his nose against the man’s cheek, licked his lips, and trotted over to Dan’ka.
“And he’s fit in perfectly with you. Let’s go home. That’s enough—he’s had his fill,” said the owner. Gudvin gazed up at him, wagging his tail in an apologetic manner, while standing close to Dan’ka.
“Will you be leaving again? Leave him with us. Dan’ka has grown attached to him, and so have I… And does he bark a lot?” Ksenia pulled the seashell from the bag and held it to her ear.
“No, it’s the big ones that make noise. I’ll bring them to you,” the man replied with a smile. “Actually, you’d be doing me a huge favor if you took him in. It’s not ideal, but I’m glad I won’t have to constantly find someone for him whenever I’m away on business trips. Are you sure? He won’t be a burden?”
“No, not at all. I’m sorry I lashed out at you earlier. And are you passing by? You probably have nothing better to do at home. Would you care to have breakfast with us?” Ksenia looked toward her son for reassurance.
“Stas, stay,” he said.
“So you two already know each other?” Ksenia asked in surprise.
“Yes, we often go on walks together with Gudvin.”
At the table, Stas explained that he was a diving instructor and frequently led groups on trips abroad. He had even retrieved that seashell himself from the ocean floor. Dan’ka listened with his mouth agape.
“Is diving difficult?” he asked.
“It’s hard at first to get used to breathing with a mask, but then it becomes easier.”
Ksenia saw how Dan’ka was drawn to Stas—how he hung on every word and glance. “Now that’s the kind of father Dan’ka should have. Why did I rush into marriage so soon…?” she thought, glancing back and forth between Stas and her son.
After every business trip, Stas would visit Gudvin and bring more seashells. Soon enough, a whole collection of seashells—of different sizes and with colorful corals—filled the bookshelf. And each time, he stayed longer, until one day he simply never left…
“A good dog has never hindered anyone”
Eduard Uspensky, “Three from Prostokvashino”
“Happiness doesn’t come easily to people. They close themselves off, they get into awkward situations. They don’t even know what they truly need…and they remain sad, so sad… But dogs don’t have such difficulties. They know that happiness is found in doing something for others. Dogs do everything in their power just to please their two-legged friend, and they are happy if they manage it.”
