Summary of “The Life of Trezor” Astafyev
Motley dog with big paws and muzzle carotid lay across the full length of the porch, necessarily across to whoever is going – for him and he paused to track broke into the house. In the house Trezor immediately climbed under the table, freely there stretched; if his legs were placed on him, they attacked widely scattered paws, he jumped, he plumped his head against the countertop and wildly barked: “Er, comrades, do not forget yourself, I’m here!”
Els Trezor from an old enamel pot. The dishes are one for all the animals that live in the house: three cats and him, Trezor. Putting his snout into the pan, the dog chose that it was softer, more tasty. Cats sat patiently around and licked, not daring to disturb the lord’s meal. If any of the cats poked their muzzle into the pan, Tresor spewed out a roar so angry that the cats rushed in all directions.
“Well, you unclean spirit!” Tiger and Tiger! cried the landlady.
Trezor
He woke up and reluctantly got out from under the table in the afternoon, when the hostess was starting to gather in the store – she worked on a calf and still traded in a store. I was standing on the porch of Trezor’s shop, I was barking all around the bark, as if I were hitting the bell: “Write it down! Hurry! Open! Open! Open!” – and between the legs of buyers made his way to the store. If there were none, the forehead opened the door and stopped before the counter in anticipation.
“Where are you going?” said the landlady. – I earned – get! – and threw Tresora a piece of sugar, a crushed gingerbread or a crumpled candy.
Having eaten a treat, Trezor, or fell asleep near the door of a stove, or again wandered out into the street, stretched, wide openly, with a sweet howl opening his mouth, and went to eat at Mukhtar’s brother.
Mukhtar was a suit and an article poured out by Trezor, but his character was completely different from him. If Trezor is an arrogant
Mukhtar responded to all this mockery with ferocious hoarseness, raring off the chain, was strangled to death, his eyes were bleeding, a foam came out of his mouth and, sometimes, tore a collar or chain – and then a white and motley ball of two males rolled along a lane, scattered drifts, I dropped piles, knocked buckets, boxes – so the dogs fell apart, that it was impossible to separate them.
They will roll, the brothers will disperse to the sides, they will blush, they will catch their breath and again: “R-rr, rrr-ra, rrr.”
The contractions most often occurred in the winter, from boredom, it should be. Faced with exhaustion, until the loss of strength, the males calmed down for a long time and, if they met, turned their muzzles from each other, from a distance, growled warningly: “Well, wait, you bastard!
In summer Trezor did not fight anyone. He was completely absorbed in the worries about the sweet food, which he learned to extort from children from the city of children, compassionate aunts. At a time when his brother Mukhtar was sailing along the river after the master’s boat, he was striding along the shore, someone was looking for or unearthing, guarding, and strictly guarding, the simple property of the fishermen, Trezor, from the last hut, walked round the village. He sat down against the gate or in front of an open window and waited for him to be given sugar or some other delicacy. If they did not give us a long time, Trezor reminded himself of barking and finally got what he wanted. Unhurriedly crunchy with sugar, Tresor licked and poked his huge paw benefactor or lay down near the gate and for a while “guarded” virtuous people, their yard and household.
The rate of his work depended on food: little was given to sugar-he lay for a short time under the gate, or even immediately ran to another hut; and so twice a day there was a detour and commissions took place, while Trezor completely failed to notice the huts and courtyards where he was not spoiled with handouts and once banished, and even after they repented, tried to entice him – he delicately evaded the invitations.
Closer to the autumn Trezor was bored: the city people were leaving the village, and each family he escorted to the bus stop. Head down, hanging his tail, the dog crouched down to the road, sighed with a sigh: “What can you do? Leave is a vacation. But remember, people, you have a loyal and reliable friend here”.
It was worth, however, the bus to retire behind the bridge, thrown across the river, to disappear behind the island of the fir grove, as Trezor screwed the tail of the pretzel, put his ears with a hatchet and returned with bouncing bark to the village: “I wore it, I pierced these cottagers. anxiety. “
In the autumn, before the October holidays, Tresor – courtesy of the whole village! Approaching slaughter of cattle: a feast for dogs, cats and birds. You look – at a yard on poplars and bird-cherry trees, crows, magpies, jackdaws; on the pegs of the fences of the cat they petrified, as if they were crumbs, on the tip of the cloth. On earth Tresor lies, dropping its muzzle on the paws, everyone is waiting in a concentrated and silent way – therefore, in this house, a sheep, a heifer or a bull was killed in the yard.
Obedet cattle owners, they will take away the meat for sowing, they will go to fry potatoes with fresh stuff – all livestock will come into motion: crows will crow above the yard, taking away each other’s livelihoods; the magpies with a bloody piece of skin or strong veins in their beaks are bustling and cracking; shat with fierce burning eyes of a cat, hissing and snorting at each other. Trezor, too, with a treat in an embrace in the clearing lies – a bone, he really breaks off, no one will forget. Sometimes he will sleep near the bone, resting, again, with the abdomen of her forepaws, she will grab her slowly and with feeling, gnaw with pleasure, and amuse herself.
Once he wrote a bone, gnashing his teeth, and greedy crows looked at him from poplars, from time to time baggy crossing and talking: “This is what it is.” Eats and eats! No shame, no conscience! “He would leave at least a little.”
The crows ripped from the trees, planned over Trezor, frightening him with a cry, trying to touch their claws-the dog did not move his ear and gnawed his bone, white, fragile, like sugar. And one old brave crow sat right in front of Treasure’s muzzle, waited for him to forget or snooze. In small steps, as if on their own business, a crow ridden by a living dog, razed the ground with its beak, chiseled something, just crept up, managed to grab a bone from the dog – but it was not there! Tresor on the alert, made such a jump – it was almost a raven without a tail left!
The old crow sat on the poplar branch, looked at Trezor, thought, thought and thought of a big strategy – croaked, ordering the family to follow her; and the crows began to walk around the dog-kolbrodit, fly up and even scream at him. I would take a bone to the bone and clean it up under the awning, so no, he was so lazy or so thought himself smart and strong that he did not want to admit anything and did not pay for it.
The old raven walked around the dog’s tail, but ka-as would grab it with its beak, but ka-ak pulls! The dog could not stand it, jumped up and barked at the crow with barking. Wool on end, eyes sparkling fiercely.
The crow seemed to be frightened, flew off, waved its wings, stepped off three more steps, shook with fear, her beak opened powerlessly. Trezor of that and it is necessary – he farther after the crow drove, just about to grab her by the tail.
At that time, the crow’s family plundered the dog, grabbing the bone, and then dropping it, then again picking up the crows, they carried Trezor to the village and to the vegetable gardens, and croaked there, spinning, dividing the prey.
Trezor listened, listened, returned to the place where he gnawed the bone, sniffed the frozen grass in the clearing, clawed the earth with its claws, looked around, the hair fell on it, his ears sagged, the tail dissolved – the dog could not understand: there was bone – and there is no!! Where did it go? And on the pole sat a raven mom and, yanking her tail, yelled: “Fool! Dur-r-rrak!”
Tresor ran through the village, frightening off the crows and the forty, hoping that somewhere, yes, he would break off the bone, and maybe a piece of meat.
Last winter, deaf, long-haired, long, Tresor and Mukhtar fought particularly ferociously. Mukhtar almost tore Trezor’s eyes, tore his ear, lips. Tresor bored my brother with a nerve on his head, and Mukhtar quickly began to deaf. At once the hunting dog went out, blossomed all over, began to walk slowly, his ears were waved, the tail turned crumpled, untidy, with a rare hair. An old, sick male was replaced by a new-born – a big-eared hound puppy Danube, who soon waved from a well log house and barked bark so that the old women were baptized at home with a fright.
And Mukhtar disappeared from the courtyard: he had shot him, the sick man, the owner no one wanted, whether he himself had gone to die in the forest – it is not known.
Unclear beginning to happen and with Trezor. He, too, aged at once, twisted, stopped taking delicacies, barking, seeing off the mistress to the store. Then he took and completely left the village for about five versts from his house, began to live on a livestock farm, sleep on a straw, it is not known what to eat.
The hostess visited the neighboring village more than once, she called Trezor with her. He wagged his tail apologetically, even escorted her to the outskirts of the village, but sat down on the sly, lagged behind.
– Trezor! Trezor! Let’s go, my dear. Go home!
The dog responded hoarsely, senilely, hopelessly and bitterly, as if saying: “I can not! I can not leave.” Forgive me. “
Maybe behind that village, behind that farm Mukhtar is buried? Maybe something has turned in Trezor’s mind? Go find out!
And without the dog it was melancholy, the village seemed to have lost its living soul, became quiet, became an orphan.
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