The poor little puppy was not more than three weeks old, its eyes were just open—one eye still seemed rather larger than the other; it did not know how to lap out of a cup, and did nothing but shiver and blink. Gerasim took hold of its head softly with two fingers, and dipped its little nose into the milk. The pup suddenly began lapping greedily, sniffing, shaking itself, and choking.
All night long he was waiting on it, keeping it covered, and rubbing it dry. He fell asleep himself at last, and slept quietly and happily by its side.
No mother could have looked after her baby as Gerasim looked after his little nursling. At first she—for the pup turned out to be a bitch—was very weak, feeble, and ugly, but by degrees she grew stronger and improved in looks, and, thanks to the unflagging care of her preserver, in eight months’ time she was transformed into a very pretty dog of the spaniel breed, with long ears, a bushy spiral tail, and large, expressive eyes.
She was devotedly attached to Gerasim, and was never a yard from his side; she always followed him about wagging her tail. He called her Mumu. All the servants in the house liked her, and called her Mumu, too.
She was very intelligent, she was friendly with everyone, but was only fond of Gerasim. Gerasim, on his side, loved her passionately, and he did not like it when other people stroked her; whether he was afraid for her, or jealous—God knows!
She used to wake him in the morning, pulling at his coat; she used to take the reins in her mouth, and bring him up the old horse that carried the water, with whom she was on very friendly terms.
With a face of great importance, she used to go with him to the river; she used to watch his brooms and spades, and never allowed any one to go into his garret.
He cut a little hole in his door on purpose for her, and she seemed to feel that only in Gerasim’s garret she was completely mistress and at home; and directly she went in, she used to jump with a satisfied air upon the bed. At night she did not sleep at all, but she never barked without sufficient cause, like some stupid house-dog, who, sitting on its hind-legs, blinking, with its nose in the air, barks simply from dullness, at the stars, usually three times in succession. No! Mumu’s delicate little voice was never raised without good reason; either some stranger was passing close to the fence, or there was some suspicious sound or rustle somewhere... In fact, she was an excellent watch-dog.
Mumu never went into the mistress’s house; and when Gerasim carried wood into the rooms, she always stayed behind, impatiently waiting for him at the steps, pricking up her ears and turning her head to right and to left at the slightest creak of the door...
One fine summer day the old lady was walking up and down the drawing-room with her dependants. She was in high spirits; she laughed and made jokes. When she came to the window, the lady caught sight of her busily gnawing a bone.
“Mercy on us!” she cried suddenly, “what dog is that? But it’s a charming little dog! Order it to be brought in. Order it to be brought in.”
The companion flew at once into the hall. “Boy, boy!” she shouted, “bring Mumu in at once! Make haste, Stepan!”
Gerasim, who was at that instant in the kitchen, knocking out and cleaning a barrel, turning it upside down in his hands like a child’s drum. Stepan hurriedly explained to him by signs that the mistress wanted the dog brought in to her. Gerasim was a little astonished; he called Mumu, however, picked her up, and handed her over to Stepan.
Stepan carried her into the drawingroom, and put her down on the parquet floor. The old lady began calling the dog to her in a coaxing voice.
Mumu, who had never in her life been in such magnificent apartments, was very much frightened, and made a rush for the door, but, being driven back by the obsequious Stepan, she began trembling, and huddled close up against the wall.
“Mumu, Mumu, come to me, come to your mistress,” said the lady, “come, silly thing... don’t be afraid.”
But Mumu looked round her uneasily, and did not stir. Stepan brought in a saucer of milk, and set it down before Mumu, but Mumu would not even sniff at the milk, and still shivered, and looked round as before.
“Ah, what a silly you are!” said the lady, and going up to her, she stooped down, and was about to stroke her, but Mumu turned her head abruptly, and showed her teeth. The lady hurriedly drew back her hand.
“Take her away,” said the old lady in a changed voice. “Wretched little dog! What a spiteful creature!”
Next morning she ordered steward to be summoned an hour earlier than usual. “Tell me, please,” she said, “what dog was that barking all night in our yard? It wouldn’t let me sleep! We have a yard dog, haven’t we? Well, why more? what do we want more dogs for? And what does the dumb man want with a dog? Who gave him leave to keep dogs in my yard? Yesterday I went to the window, and there it was lying in the flower-garden; it had dragged in nastiness it was gnawing, and my roses are planted there...”
“Yes, Mistress.” The steward whispered some instructions to Stepan, to which Stepan responded with something between a yawn and a laugh.