The White Poodle

Along narrow mountain paths, from one dacha settlement to another, a small wandering troupe made its way along the southern shore of Crimea. In front, as usual, a white poodle Arto ran— with a long pink tongue hanging to the side, trimmed like a lion. At crossroads, it would stop, and wagging its tail would look back questioningly. By signs known only to it, it always recognized the way— and happily chattering with its furry ears, it would gallop ahead…