Natalia Rubanova (Наталья Рубанова)

Лауреат премии «Нонконформизм» и Премии имени Катаева, автор 4 книг, член Союза российских писателей, литературный агент. Публикации в журналах России, Финляндии, Германии, США.


Essay (small prose) «A Dog’s Life»

отрывок

Overall post-new- year torpidity.
Passers-by wrapping themselves up in their warm scarves.
Newly rich ladies & gentlemen rushing up to their cars.
Porches.
Shops.
I scoop up a scringing black dog hugging the wall into my arms (it is already covered with frost): its nose and chin are festooned with icicles —you should have seen it!
Dreaming about my “nesting box”!

It’s warm in the kitchen: we are sitting nose tip to nose tip forty minutes or so — the dog in a dog-collar with caked blood on the snout (is it lost? or booed out? most likely the latter…), and me – we are trembling.
It is trembling with cold and fear (fifteen more minutes could have frozen it to death), and I — just with fear (in my “nesting box” I also have a cat, beautiful Agnessa; but the “nesting box” is not mine).
The dog is staring at me in such a way that I you can’t but hide your eyes.
After a while it starts thawing out, literally, – with me snapping off pieces of icicles: how can I hiss it off from my lap?

“Them civilized”: “You’d better be pitiful to humans!” — “But why?” — These pretend they don’t understand. These put on blinders and earmuffs not to know what “good people” really do with speechless creatures. Well, well: it would be very sad if it weren’t so monstrous.
Once I heard a sugar daddy saying, “I’d pick them off myself!” Want to know why?
The barking robbed his bairn of a good night's sleep: no comment.

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