Dog Boy by Eva Hornung Read Free Book Online Page A

and people who lived here, if anything, welcomed the beacon of the mountain. It was their permanent compass.
     
    The next time the dogs headed out, they went straight to the meeting place and then further. Mamochka took Romochka and, to his chagrin, Brown Brother, who was the clumsiest. Black Dog took White Sister, Golden Bitch took Grey Brother and Black Sister, and they all split up to hunt in the wide world. Mamochka, Romochka and Brown Brother filed across the waste lands, then picked their way as best they could across the rubbish river into the heady atmosphere of the mountain, with its grind and rumble of machinery and its stench. Once they crossed to the mountain itself, they had to watch for dogs and people, and perform the open paths rituals for each dog they met.
    For the first time in months, Romochka came close to people. Men and women scoured the mountain, heads down, moving rubbish around with sticks and handmade hoes. Small children searched too, or rode on the backs of their parents. They paid him no attention. Mamochka led him and Brown Brother in wide circles to avoid them and he guessed that around people there were closed paths too. He could tell that Mamochka thought they were dangerous, and he remembered that they were strangers and that he should never talk to them. Both his mothers now had told him the same thing.
    Mamochka skirted the mountain and headed for the birch forest and the shanty village on the far slope. Romochka’s step danced with the excitement of it all. Brown Brother’s tail was up and plumy in the breeze, and every now and then he barked just for the sake of it. Mamochka was purposeful and silent, and they followed, scampering and play fighting now and then.
    Up ahead four ragged men were yelling, while beating something at their feet with their hoes and sticks. It roared and gasped, heaved and flailed. Romochka thought it must be some large beast they were going to eat, or that had perhaps attacked them. But then they all suddenly turned and walked away and he saw that it was another just like them lying groaning in the rubbish. As he passed by he could smell something that reminded him of Uncle. His step quickened. Mamochka ignored them.
    A lot of dogs lurked around the shanty village. Some were tied with rope, to stay and guard the shack of their owner. Others were friendly with people but not pets exactly: stray dogs who had discovered the kind-hearted, dogs who hungered for reciprocal warmth and affection. These dogs kept their freedom. The people they loved were generous to them, flattered by the dog’s affections, but neither owned the other. Their paths could diverge as inexplicably as they had joined. The dogs skulking at the fringes were scared strays, sick dogs, crippled dogs, hovering in close for any chance of scraps. Others were like Mamochka and Brown Brother: feral clan dogs. These all knew each other and knew who was from a strong or a weak clan, and whether they should stand with deference or ritual aggression. The pet dogs and the clan dogs were the only semi-permanent residents. The others came and went.
    The village and the forest immediately behind it was all open trails. No clan could close it: it was too desirable as a food source and too unsafe. Uniformed men charged in now and then, demolished everything, arrested or robbed the people and killed the dogs; then, in a day or two, the village would be rebuilt.
    That first time, Mamochka didn’t let them stay long. They circled the village and saw many dogs and people. Romochka saw a blind dog, a three-legged dog, four or five miserable dogs tied up with rope. Mamochka made it clear that some dogs they met were to be feared and some were not but he didn’t yet know why and neither did Brown Brother.
    No dogs were friends. All people were dangerous.
    The foray gave Romochka a lot to think about. He lay in the lair with the others and saw the unfriendliness of outside dogs over and over again. He saw the four