When I was still a child, I chose a Siberian Laika puppy for myself, out of the six puppies brought by the owners' dog, where we lodged for some time. My parents were somewhat embarrassed by such a gift. My mother had no particular love for dogs, or, to be more precise, treated them rather coldly. She could not stand the smell of a dog and generally believed that keeping a dog in the house was unhygienic.
The father treated the dogs with great sympathy and love, but since his employment in the service did not leave time for training with the dog, which required love, attention and training in all its canine sciences, he believed that it should not be turned on. And he allowed me to take the puppy donated by the owners only for my sake and because to refuse the gift meant to offend the owners, these kind people.
The pirate, as I called the puppy presented to me, was my and only my dog. I took care of him, like a mother for a child when he was very young. And as soon as he grew up a little, we became inseparable friends with him, friends, as they say, "do not spill water."
All day long we ran like mad through thickets of bushes and tall grass as tall as a man.
And we children, playing hide and seek, loved to hide in this grass. But I never managed to hide, and the one of the children who drove did not have to look for me.
Before I had time to lie down in the grass and hide, as the Pirate began to grab my arms, legs, and pull me, he did not understand that in this game one should lie still, not move and not breathe. And when it was my turn to drive, he was ahead of me and instantly found all the guys. Because of the Pirate, none of the kids wanted to take me into the game. But I was not offended by the guys.
When I was punished for my offense and put in a corner, I sat on the floor and cried out of resentment, smearing tears all over my face with not very clean hands. The pirate could not stand my sobs and tears and, trying to calm me down, kissed my cheeks and nose, licking tears from his face with a big hot and soft tongue along with snot. But I did not calm down and continued to cry. Then, in despair, he sat down next to me and, throwing his head up, began to howl in unison with me. No one could bear this anymore, the punishment was immediately canceled, I stopped roaring. The pirate barked contentedly and happily, wagged his tail, pulled my sleeves so that I would rather leave the corner.
In September I went to school. Studying began to take up a lot of time, but when I got carried away with classes in the school drama club, there was practically no time left for communication with the Pirate. I still loved him and he loved me, but now I was so busy that I rarely played with him, and he was bored.