Penetrate the darkness which clouded over the fate of one girl

This story begins in a sheepfold — it associates with kids — gropes its way through dreadful life mutilation, and stops where only death reigns. – Olya Aman

I reveal this tale in the first person — the way it was told to me by my cousin, let it be written. I’ll use all my mastery over the written word to give it the voice and mood of the people involved.

I was guilty of an act of naughtiness every time I had any chance to tax my parents’ patience. I wanted a dog, and when my mom agreed with few objections, I chose the ugliest little creature ever existent. I always was the black sheep of the flock, and my dog was no better. When my mom was holding my hand in front of a cage with the eight offsprings of our neighbor’s huge German King Shepherd, I saw her scowl at the little baldy black pup—and I knew instantly which one to take home with me.

He was the smallest of the brood and, surprisingly, grew up to be the biggest of the eight. He did everything with a bang; he barked in season and out of it. Dundee, the name I picked to commemorate my love for the famous movie Crocodile Dundee, was mad with rage at cats and rats, and mad with love for kids and chickens. He would let all children do what they pleased with him, ride on his back, drag him by his tail, pull his ears. Dundee licked the faces of girls and only the hands of boys.

It was our second year together when I began to suspect that Dundee was unfaithful to me. I discovered that he had fallen in love with the prettiest thing in our village.

Alisa, that was the name of the girl, was somewhat handicapped. She seemed to live in a dream, talking about flowers and imagining herself to be a dandelion. She danced, not walked, sang instead of talking, and was dressed only in green.

Her father was a simple widower. About a month before the dreadful scene, Victor brought the most heartless and deceitful person of the entire region to our remote village. He was known to beat his wife when liquor got into his head. There was definitely a screw loose in his head when it came to pretty young ladies. Women and men alike scolded Victor for associating with this vile person. But Alisa’s father turned a deaf ear to all those warnings.

Victor never left his precious daughter home alone.

That unfortunate day, a call from his malicious friend forced him to go out late at night. He claimed the occasion not worth explaining on the phone and demanded to see Victor in person. Victor looked in his daughter’s room. The girl was fast asleep, and he thought somehow it would be ok to leave her for a couple of hours unattended.

At the same time, in my room, my furious beast was out of all sorts. It was the only hour when my dog was invariably by my side. Dundee was continuously whining and scratching at the closed door. He never behaved like that before. I gave in and let him go.

We learned from Victor the account of the events that followed.

“I heard the loud barking when I was halfway to the pub where I had the arranged meeting. Dundee almost knocked me to the ground. The brute was pulling the sleeve of my coat and dragging me homewards. Then I had a notion, you know, a tightening in the heart. Something was amiss with my girl.

“When I approached the house, I saw the light in my daughter’s bedroom. The dog rushed past me, barking viciously all the time. When I entered the room, Dundee was on top of that man. My Alisa was sitting on her bed with her nightdress on the floor and her pretty little face agitated. I covered her in a blanket and ran out of the room to prevent her from seeing the scene of a murder.

“I couldn’t help the man. Even then, being so much shaken by what happened, I thought he richly deserved his cruel fate. I needed to save the fragile mind of my precious daughter.”

Victor called the police and the ambulance. The death from fatal wounds inflicted by a German King Shepherd named Dundee was stated.

The dog, though, was nowhere to find.

The law said to put the beast to sleep in a case like that. Police officers and volunteers searched through and through, but they didn’t find Dundee.

Alisa was not seriously harmed. She continues to be a beautiful dandelion in her green dress, walking the fields and singing her songs even today.

We seldom talked about the dog. I believed him alive, hiding somewhere.

My father told me some years later the true fate of my brave Dundee. That horrid night Victor called my father, and only when my dad took the dog out of the house and into his van, aiming at his brother’s farm a hundred and fifty miles away, Victor called the ambulance and the police.

Shortly after my discovery, I went to my uncle’s farm to learn about my friend’s further life.

Here is what my uncle said:

“Your dog was worth his weight in gold. He lived a solitary life on my farm, running after the rats and cats and affectionately mothering the chickens. He never expressed any even slight attachment to me or any human being. His heart was forever given to that little flower girl, I think. I often saw him wandering among the fields with a bunch of dandelions in his mouth.”

I saw the earth’s elevation under the only tree in a vast field quite far from the house. It was his favorite spot, my uncle said.

I battled out of my lethargy and laid a bouquet of dandelions on his grave.