I got a job at a hotel for dogs, and on my very first day I ran into Bublik. A hundred kilograms of fluff and audacity, with an ironclad certainty that everything around exists for him. Along with Bublik, his owner also entered my life—Andrey Vorontsov. A calm, ironic, and disturbingly self-assured man who immediately declared that I wouldn’t last here more than three days.
Three days passed. Then another week. And for some reason, Andrey started coming by for his dog noticeably more often than before. Now I have two problems: Bublik categorically refuses to go home without me. And I’m increasingly unwilling to let his owner leave.