RuKsaK

This is a true story® (they all are).

Alexander Anatolovich is my father-in-law – a measured man who speaks English as well as two years of my Russian. We have drunk vodka together many times and had many healthy, grave conversations:
‘When you will show you are a man?’
‘Sorry – what do you mean?’
‘I am not very young man.’
‘And?’
‘You will give grandchild soon?’
‘Working on it.’
------
Bobik is a stray mongrel patrolling Alexander Anatolovich’s district. He’s a mangy fuckster full of piss and vinegar and always dishing out low-key terrorism.

Alexander was off to work last month, when he turned a corner and Bobik was giving him a quivering face, angry gargles and teeth. Alexander turned and legged it. Bobik was hungry for some and ran after Alexander. In a few seconds he had him and removed a chunk of my father-in-law’s inner-calf. Satisfied, leaving his victim bleeding and fifty grams lighter, Bobik retreated down the street with a grin.
------
At the doctor Alex had his tetanus:
‘Do you know the dog?’
‘It’s homeless. It just hangs around our area.’
‘Has it got rabies?’
‘What!’
‘Is it rabid?’
‘I don’t know,’ peering at the wall.
‘Okay – you need a series of rabies jabs as well. Eight in total, over time.’
‘Okay.’

Alexander slumped home with fresh punctures in him and a date for his next jab.
------
Two days ago, jab three. The doctor:
‘It’s New Year soon, but you’ll have to be careful.’
‘Fair enough, and why is that so?’
‘After this series of jabs you can’t drink for nine months.’

Alexander’s chin hit the tiled floor. He swung to the doctor and swiped:
‘What? No – impossible. Why? What is this?’
‘Rabies is very serious. You can’t mess with it.’
‘I don’t even know if this Bobik is rabid. Probably not.’
‘You can’t risk it. Nine months. Okay?’
‘No, it’s not. The bastard can have my flesh. He can swallow last year if he wants. He’s not having my next nine months!’

Alexander left the clinic with a mission. Get Bobik.
------
He scoured his grey repetitive district. Searching. Hunting. Asking people:
‘You seen Bobik?’
On locating the thug, Bobik saw more than revenge. He’d taken more than a morsel, more than could be healed, something he had to return. Alexander was pleading, but merciless:
‘You’ve got something of mine. You’re going to give it back.’
Bobik surrendered immediately – knowing Russia as a Russian.
------
Alexander resolutely led Bobik to a cheap vet. Bobik resigned quietly to examination. The analysis:
‘Rabies negative.’
The words freed them both from different fates.
------
It’s not very often a dog bites off a chunk of your future. I’m with my father-in-law. Bobik can have the last decade and a leg, before he gets the next few years out of me.
------
Anyway, a deserved Happy New Year to my father-in-law and anyone else who’s got some future back from the dog’s maw.

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Get Bobik