A short story about the dog Vovchik
On the outskirts of our city there was a wild area, popularly called the Shooting Range.
There used to be a military unit here. Then some of them were closed, the vacant landfills were overgrown with burrs, and they began to be distributed as dachas. Our aunt also received a plot here. And I must say, I was very happy about it. Our lands are rich - whatever you plant, everything will grow. She began to go to her dacha on weekends. But the trouble is, a mad dog has appeared in those parts. Not even a little dog, but a whole dog: giant-sized, teething in all directions. As soon as he growls, his soul will go to his heels, and if he gives chase, that’s the end of the fairy tale.
Our aunt was a lonely woman and for the sake of self-defense she always carried salt and pepper with her. That’s what she was taught at school: the best remedy for a rabid dog is to sprinkle salt or pepper in its face, or even better, all at once. Only, probably, those who invented this science have never seen anything like the local monster wolfhound even in books. Otherwise, they would instantly forget all their recommendations.
Meeting
One day, on Monday, my aunt returns from her land. It's twilight in the sky. There are still five hundred meters to the stop through an abandoned pole. And as luck would have it - none of the people. Lucky summer residents usually come here on weekends. Well, my aunt has an unplanned weekday off, what can you do?
She walks and suddenly sees someone’s evil eyes looking out from the grass. I stopped. She died. I instinctively reached for my pocket with salt and pepper. A huge white carcass fell out onto the road. The mouth is gaping, saliva is flowing madly, and the pupils are red and stunned.
Auntie’s hand then tore itself away from her pocket and hung there. Here, even if you spill a bucket of spices, it won’t do any good. The woman cried out of fright. What else would you like? She even closed her eyes. Suddenly she feels something soft rubbing against her. She opened one eye slightly and saw that the shaggy monster seemed to feel sorry for her. And the dog’s muzzle is up to her chest - that’s how hefty it is. But her eyes are not at all red and not crazy, but rather sad and intelligent.
Auntie says to the dog: “Are you hungry?” The animal is whining. Then the aunt took her lunch sandwich out of her bag. Slowly, carefully. She handed it to the dog. She licked the treat without hesitation and asks for more. And my aunt has nothing else.
The two of them walked further to the stop. Now it’s leisurely, without fearing anyone. There is a special charm at dusk.
And from then on our aunt had a guide. Smart, he knows exactly what days to wait for her. She brings him chicken legs, sausages, sausages, in general, whatever she has. And in return, he will take her to the station, wait there while she redoes all the work, and then escort her back to the stop.
Yes, I almost forgot, my aunt called her wild friend Vovchik. Why this is so is not recognized. Well, she knows better.
A short story about the dog Caesar
In one large country house there lived a fat, clumsy dog named Caesar. The doctor strictly forbade the owners from overfeeding her, and especially from allowing her to eat various unhealthy foods such as sausages, cheeses and cakes with sour cream.
A week has passed since the ill-fated visit to the doctor. Caesar lost as much as two kilograms. The owners were happy, but the dog was afraid that if he continued like this, he might disappear completely.
And so dad brought home a stick of excellent smoked sausage from work. There was such a smell in the air that Caesar’s vision darkened. But, of course, no one was going to give him sausages.
Savvy
As you know, the need for invention is cunning. So Caesar figured out how to get what he wanted. Putting on his saddest and most unhappy expression, he walked up to the front door and began to ask for relief. Mom was taking a bath at that time, I was doing homework in my room, and dad had just laid out the groceries on the table and was getting ready to watch TV. But it is impossible to resist the natural call of a dog (and Caesar knew this very well).
Dad had to put on his shoes again and take the dog outside. As soon as they were outside the threshold, the fat man flew down the steps like a bullet and rushed around the corner of the house. Having gone around the building and reaching the back entrance, he pushed the door with his paw and (lo and behold!) it was not locked. Caesar flew into a small corridor, from there into the kitchen, there - onto an ottoman and from the ottoman to the table for sausage. The piece was fragrant, but very small. So for one tooth.
The dog immediately gobbled it up and ran back out into the street.
Meanwhile, dad slowly walked around the house. And when he reached the back door, he saw a dog by the bush peacefully doing his dog business. Nothing suspicious.
After the walk, dad and Caesar came home. Mom set the table and we all sat down to dinner. And the next day dad wanted a sausage sandwich for breakfast. It was then that it turned out that there was no sausage in the house. Dad remembered and remembered and finally decided that he had forgotten the product in the store.
The story would have ended there if Caesar had not made his cunning plan a habit. They caught him the third time like that. And by comparing all the non-random coincidences, they guessed everything.
Cat and cat in the rituals and signs of the ancient Slavs
Combining all of the above into a single picture, we can finally highlight the key abilities of a cat, to which our ancestors attached special importance:
1. ability to purr/tell stories/lull to sleep
- which in folklore is much more important than such a utilitarian function as catching mice. What kind of stories cats tell and why is an open question. Are they healing us? Do they store some encrypted knowledge? (remember the root basis “kosh/kosh”)? Is their fairy tale a sound key for entering the “open field”, “prophetic forest” or noosphere?
2. the ability to “see” something inaccessible to people, otherworldly
- hence the cat’s ability to find the right path, warn and protect its owners from evil spirits.
Maria Molodykh. Painting
That is why:
- “It’s not a hut without a cat” and the cat is the first to be allowed into the new home;
- Kill a cat - no luck in anything for seven years;
- The first meeting of a person in the next world, according to popular belief, will be with a cat - if he treated them poorly during his lifetime, he will not see any good in the other world.
- The cat's behavior predicted the weather and the arrival of guests;
- A cat was valued more than a cow! For its theft, the 14th-century Metropolitan Court Code stipulates a fine of 3 hryvnia, the same as for an ox (for a goose - 30 kn, for a crown - 400 kn);
- You cannot buy a cat; it is customary to exchange it for something symbolic.
______________________
We didn't get out of the trees. We come from the stars. But no matter how far into the depths of thousands of millennia the history of stellar proto-humanity extends, the history of the cat tribe is probably an order of magnitude older. It is for this reason that our ancestors, having once met with this incomprehensible but friendly mind, gave it the respectful name “cat” - “ancient soul”, “guardian soul”. And they invited him to continue the journey together - as a healer, navigator, protector from dark entities, keeper of knowledge and, of course, Friend.
A little story about the dog Shilly-Shagan
Dogs are like people. There are quiet and flexible ones. And there are wayward and capricious ones. The problem is that it is impossible to immediately understand the special properties of the purchased pet. First of all, they are all cute puppies.
So was our rogue, he was very nice, with sad, tearful eyes. It was even sold for half the price. Why, you ask? Allegedly they wanted to quickly place him in good hands.
We brought our bundle of happiness home. Small, frail, on thin trembling legs. The Russian Toy Terrier is a painfully fragile breed.
They fed me, gave me something to drink, and put me to bed. The dog already had a name in his passport - Shilli Shagan. Not just any Bobik or Tuzik.
The next day, Shilly identified his favorite place in the house - a corner on the sofa, just opposite the TV. Convenient, nothing to say. The only problem was that our dad also loved this place very much and had no intention of sharing it with the dog.
And the battle broke out
Dad comes home from work in the evening. Lo and behold, your favorite place is occupied. He Shilly lightly with his palm - like a rod! Go ahead and find something else. But the dog doesn’t stop. He bared his tiny teeth, growled, and sparkled with his eyes. He doesn't want to leave. Dad then took it with two fingers and lowered it to the floor, and sat down on the sofa.
But the dog is no slouch either. Hidden and waiting. As soon as dad gets up from the sofa, the dog is right there in HIS rightful place. This struggle for power continued for several days. Until one fine day dad came home from work and saw this micro dog (a hybrid, as he called it, of dog and mouse) marking his favorite sofa.
By the way, the furniture was still new, with soft, pleasant pile, so the corrosive smell was then removed long and hard.
A fairy tale about a cat and kittens
In one village house, the one on the hill in front of the river, a cat’s mother gave birth to kittens. Three black ones with white ears, three white ones with black ears and one red one. The kittens opened their eyes and immediately began to play pranks. They play and roll around in balls on the floor. Only the red kitten did not play or roll around. He sat quietly next to the cat's mother and vigilantly looked around.
- Coward! - his brothers and sisters shouted to him. - What are you afraid of? Come play with us! But the kitten did not come.
Then the kittens came up with a funny chant:
- Red cat, little coward, The tail is trembling, the nose is trembling, Look, look - how the mouse squeaks!
But the kitten still did not go to play with others. Then the grandmother came and brought milk to the kittens. Everyone rushed to drink milk from the saucer and forgot about the kitten.
Suddenly the grandmother clasped her hands: “Fathers!” What is this...
Before the grandmother had time to finish speaking, the red kitten jumped out of its basket and instantly caught a hefty gray mouse.
Then the brothers and sisters sang a completely different song:
- Hey cat, sharp little nose! How clever! How fast! He caught the mouse just like a big one!
A short story about the dog Barsik
In one village, a dog lived in the courtyard of an ordinary house. And the dog's name was Barsik. According to the old Russian tradition, man's friend sat on a chain day and night. In front of him stood a bowl of water, blackened by age, and a plate of porridge boiled in chicken bone broth. Next to the dog kennel there was a pen with pockmarked, shabby chickens.
Either because the chain was too short, or because of the close proximity of brainless chickens, or simply because of the vicissitudes and injustices of a dog’s life, Barsik was always very angry. A hundred times a day (no less) he would burst into such wild barking that neighbors from the surrounding houses cautiously locked their flimsy doors, and pedestrians passing along the street tried to get away as quickly as possible.
Guest (like a bone)
One day, a very intelligent relative came from the capital city to visit the residents of the house in whose courtyard Barsik lived. This man saw rural life only on TV, and read a lot about it in books. Having seen the conditions in which the dog was kept, he immediately began to lecture the owners. He appealed to their humanity and swore by the Society for the Protection of Nature.
In the end, humanism won. The badger was moved away from the chickens, a new kennel was built for him, and he was fed decent canned dog food.
But some time passed, and the owners noticed that the dog was sad. He no longer barked furiously into the void, did not twitch back and forth on his chain, and generally did not show signs of a normal healthy creature. He just lay all day on the ground, putting his front paws under his head and looking at the world with sadness.
Since the city relative had already left, the owners decided to return the dog to its original place. Maybe it will help. And indeed a miracle happened. Barsik went wild, barked and began to resemble himself.
The harsh truth
If only the owners could understand what the dogs bark about and what the chickens cackle about, the nature of such wonderful metamorphoses would become clearer to them.
- You are not right! Wrong! No, no, Bars Vasilyevich! - the chickens clucked. - We are what we eat. And we eat food. Therefore, the better the food, the better we are. How can we deny the influence of material things on our lives?
But Barsik did not agree and furiously, spraying saliva in all directions, argued:
—Asceticism is the only true path for everyone who wants to achieve complete control over their body and mind. Values only distance us from understanding our own essence and make us hostage to empty, mortal worthlessness. Placing nutrition and comfort at the forefront, you evaluate yourself at the level of these factors, and for a material thing to acquire moral value, its use must be based on at least some kind of conviction, meaning...
So, day after day, Bars Vasilyevich and the chickens, whose names no one remembers, became inflamed.
