01/07/2025
The dog didn’t move away from the threshold of the ward, as if he sensed: behind that door someone was trying to bring his owner back to life. And that “someone” wasn’t just any doctor.
— Semyon, hold on a little longer, I’m going out now, — Vasiliy Andreevich said into the phone, trying to speak as softly and reassuringly as possible. — Don’t get too bored without me, okay?
He carefully placed the phone on the table and smiled. Although he looked like a stern man, with strong features and a heavy gaze, his soul was anything but as hard as it seemed. He knew that his grandson was doing just fine on his own. Semyon had learned to watch movies, read books, even make himself something simple— pasta alla marinara or an omelette—but every now and then he still called him and said he felt lonely… And although Vasiliy knew it was just a game, a way of expressing affection, his heart always warmed in those moments. He responded willingly, reassured him, persuaded him not to be sad.
Two years had passed since Semyon had lived with him. Two long years of pain, loss and the slow rebuilding of his life.
He remembered the day he had brought him home. Back then, it had felt like the whole world had collapsed. He could barely stand, as if he had died and been resurrected several times, forced to continue living. But there was no other choice. All that remained after the tragedy was that six-year-old boy with empty eyes, lost in his thoughts.
The tragedy had occurred that damned night, when Semyon's parents — Misha, Vasiliy's son, and his young wife — were returning from a visit to some friends. They had called a taxi, they just wanted to get home. But almost in front of the door, another vehicle, driven by a young drunk, had crashed into their car at breakneck speed. The impact was terrible. Of the three passengers, only Semyon survived. Small, fragile, like a broken toy. How had he survived? A miracle. The paramedics, who had seen a lot, shook their heads: “A guardian angel protected him with its wings.” The car had been literally torn to pieces, but he had emerged practically unharmed—just a couple of scratches, perhaps from being extracted from the vehicle.
Vasiliy’s wife had been missing for a long time—when his son was sixteen. He had later become Misha’s guardian, and then Semyon’s. Time passed, but the pain did not diminish. After the deaths of his son and daughter-in-law, Vasiliy was on the verge of giving up. His thoughts crowded chaotically: “Why? Why us?!” But one day, looking into his grandson’s eyes—as empty as the winter sky above an abandoned park—he understood: if he too had collapsed, Semyon would have been left completely alone. And he couldn’t afford that. Absolutely not.
The months passed. Only after six months did Semyon begin to behave like a normal child. He remained silent, thoughtful, but slowly regained his natural vivacity. Vasiliy began to work again. At first, Semyon had his neighbor Nina Petroŭna, a woman with a motherly heart. She helped him, supported him, made sure he was never alone. Then, when the child became more independent, she simply dropped by every now and then — to see how he was doing, to feed him, to check that everything was fine.
Nina Petroŭna was a good woman, but she had one flaw: she insisted that Vasiliy remarry. She brought him daughters-in-law, she constantly made signs… At first he didn’t understand why he was suddenly surrounded by so many attentive ladies.
— So, Vasya, don’t you like any of them? — she asked him one day.
And then he understood. He laughed:
— Come on, Nina Petroŭna, do you want to arrange for me to be married?
The old lady frowned:
— What’s so funny? A young and fit man, and yet you’re always here… It’s not fair! You could bring a little happiness to someone and not die in the open!
Vasiliy was forced to promise that he would “keep an eye on the women,” just to keep her quiet. But Nina wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Other women began to flirt with him. So much so that he decided to leave the hospital and transfer to pathology. Maybe he should have done it sooner, but after the loss of his family, every approach irritated him deeply.
He was just fifty. His son was born when he was nineteen, his grandson at thirty-nine. Age was not a problem. He was fit, played sports, had strong hands, knew how to drink—but only on special occasions.
The guard was about to finish his shift. By now, those who arrived in the evening were taken over by another team. Vasiliy went out for a smoke. The spring air smelled of freshness, of rebirth.
In front of the entrance sat a huge dog. He looked at him with such sadness that it made your heart ache.
— What's the matter, friend? Someone you know? Don't be down… Go home, come on…
— What’s the matter, buddy? Someone you know? Don’t be depressed… Go home, come on…
The dog sighed like a man, moved a few steps and sat down again.
An hour later Vasiliy came out again — it was time to go home. The dog was still there, and now it was whining softly, as if it wanted to come in. Strange behavior. Dogs sense death in advance. Why was he so nervous?
— Kol’! Who did we bring? Whose dog is that? — he asked the young stretcher-bearer who was about to enroll in medicine.
— A woman found on the street. She had no documents. She was probably walking her dog and…
— Where is she? — insisted Vasiliy.
— Over there, they haven’t taken her away yet. Doctor Petrovic will examine her and decide.
Petrovic — Vasiliy’s replacement — always started his day with a cup of hot tea.
Vasiliy approached the woman. She was about forty years old. Her face was clean, with no apparent wounds, and… strangely, she didn’t look dead.
He took her hand and gasped:
— But she’s… alive!
The stretcher-bearer Igor almost fainted…
