All about dogs story. Stories about dogs from the book grandfather's stories

Interesting story for younger students about the dog Jack. Stories for family reading and for elementary school reading.

My brother Seryozha and I went to bed. Suddenly the door opened, and dad came in, followed by a big beautiful dog, white with dark brown spots on the sides. Her muzzle was also brown, huge ears hung down.

- Dad, where are you from? Will it be ours? What is her name? we shouted, jumping out of bed and rushing to the dog.

The dog, a little embarrassed by such a stormy meeting, nevertheless wagged his tail in a friendly way and allowed himself to be stroked. He even sniffed my hand and licked it with his soft pink tongue.

“So we got a dog,” said dad. “Now march across the beds!” And then mom will come, she will see that you are running around in the same shirts, and she will ask us.

We climbed back into bed, and dad sat down on a chair.

“Jack, sit down, sit down here,” he told the dog, pointing to the floor.

Jack sat down next to his dad and gave him a paw.

“Hello,” said dad, shook his paw and took it off his knees, but Jack immediately gave it again.

So he said hello, probably ten times in a row. Dad pretended to be angry - he took off his paw, Jack served again, and we laughed.

"That's enough," Dad finally said. - Lie down.

Jack obediently lay down at his feet and only looked askance at his dad and lightly tapped his tail on the floor.

Jack's coat was short, shiny, smooth, and strong muscles showed from under it. Dad said it was a hunting dog, a pointer. With pointing dogs, you can hunt only for game - for different birds, but not for hares or foxes.

- When August comes, the time for hunting comes, we will go with him to shoot ducks. Well, it's time for bed, it's already late.

Dad called the dog and left the room with him.

The next morning we got up early, drank our tea quickly, and went for a walk with Jack.

He merrily ran through the tall, thick grass, between the bushes, wagged his tail, caressed us, and generally felt at home in his new place.

Having run enough, we decided to go play "hunters".

Jack also followed us. We made two bows from a hoop from a barrel, cut out arrows and went on a “hunt”.

There was a small stump in the middle of the grass garden. From a distance, he looked very much like a hare. Two twigs protruded from his sides, like ears.

Seryozha shot him first. The arrow hit a stump, bounced off and fell into the grass. At the same moment, Jack rushed to the arrow, grabbed it in his teeth and, wagging his tail, brought it and gave it to us. We were very pleased with this. They shot the arrow again, and Jack brought it back.

Since then, the dog took part in our shooting every day and gave us arrows.

Very soon we learned that Jack gives not only arrows, but also any thing that you throw at him: a stick, a hat, a ball ... And sometimes he brought things that no one asked him to do. For example, he will run into the house and bring a galosh from the front.

- Why did you bring it - it's completely dry! Bring it back! we laughed.

Jack gallops around, puts a galosh in his hands and, apparently, is not at all going to carry it back to its place. I had to carry it myself.

Jack really liked to go swimming with us. It used to happen that we just started to get ready, and he was already right there - jumping, spinning, as if in a hurry to us.

The river in the place where we swam was shallow near the shore. We floundered in the water with laughter and squeals, splashed, chased each other. And Jack, too, climbed into the water, rushed along with us; if they threw a stick into the river, he rushed after it, swam, then took it in his teeth and returned to the shore. Often, in a fit of merriment, he grabbed something from our clothes and started running, while we chased him across the meadow, trying to take away our cap or shirt. And one time, that's what happened.

We swam in the river with my dad. Dad swam very well. He swam to the other side and began to call Jack to him. The dog was playing with us at that time. But, as soon as he heard his father's voice, he immediately became alert, rushed into the water, then unexpectedly returned, grabbed his father's clothes in his teeth, and before we had time to come to our senses, he was already swimming to the other side. Behind him, inflating like a big white bubble, the shirt dragged along the water, and the trousers were already completely wet, disappeared under the water, and Jack could hardly hold them with his teeth at the very tip. We just froze in place, afraid that he would miss the clothes and she would drown. However, Jack did not lose anything and safely swam to the other side.

Dad had to swim back, holding clothes in his hand. Of course, she didn’t have time to dry, and when we returned home, mom, seeing dad, gasped:

- What happened? Why are you like this? Did you fall into the river? - But, having learned what was the matter, then she laughed with us for a long time.

We got used to Jack very much, did not part with him for whole days and kept dreaming about when August would come and dad and Jack would go hunting. Dad promised that he would take us with him too.

Every morning we first ran to the tear-off calendar, tore off the old sheet and counted how many more sheets were left until August.

Finally, there was only one left.

On this day, dad, as soon as he returned from work and had lunch, looked meaningfully at us and said:

“Well, who wants to go with me to prepare for tomorrow’s hunt?”

Of course, there was no need to repeat the invitation. Seryozha and I rushed as fast as we could into the office and sat down near the desk.

Dad took out all the hunting supplies from the box: gunpowder, shot, shells, wads - and began to fill the cartridges.

We watched these preparations with bated breath. Finally, the cartridges were filled and neatly inserted into a wide belt with narrow pockets for each cartridge. Such a belt is called a "bandolier".

Having hung the cartridge belt on a nail, dad took out a case from the closet and slowly took out the most interesting thing - a gun. It was double-barreled, that is, with two trunks. A cartridge was inserted into each barrel, so that such a gun can be fired twice: first from one barrel, and if you miss, then, without reloading, now from the other. The gun was very beautiful, with golden decorations.

We gently touched it and even tried to aim, but it turned out to be too heavy.

When dad filled the cartridges, Jack calmly lay in a corner on his rug. But as soon as he saw the gun, he jumped up, began to jump, jump around dad and showed with his whole appearance that he was immediately ready to go hunting. Then, not knowing how else to express his joy, he rushed off to the dining room, dragged a pillow from the sofa and began to shake it so that only fluff flew in all directions.

- What is going on with you? - Mom was surprised, entering the office.

She took the pillow from Jack and carried it to the place.

The next day was Sunday. We got up early, got dressed quickly and were no longer a step behind dad. And he, as if on purpose, dressed and ate breakfast very slowly.

Finally, my father got ready. He put on a jacket, high boots, girded himself with a bandolier and picked up a gun.

Jack, who had been spinning under his feet all the time, flew out into the yard like a bullet and, squealing with joy, began to rush around the harnessed horse. And then, with all his might, he jumped onto the cart and sat down.

Dad and we also climbed onto the cart and set off.

- Goodbye, look empty-handed, do not return! - Laughing, my mother shouted after us, standing on the porch.

Ten minutes later we had already left our town and rolled along a smooth country road through the field, through the woods to where the river still gleamed from a distance and a mill lined with willows could be seen.

From this mill, reeds grew thickly up along the river bank and a wide swamp stretched. There were wild ducks, long-nosed marsh waders - snipe - and other game.

Arriving at the mill, dad left the horse, and we went to the swamp.

As we walked along the road to the swamp, Jack stayed close to dad and kept looking at him, as if asking if it was time to run ahead.

Finally we came to the swamp itself. Then dad stopped, pulled up his boots, loaded his gun, lit a cigarette, and then only ordered:

Jack, go ahead!

The dog, apparently, was just waiting for this. He threw himself into the swamp with all his might, so that the spray flew in all directions. Having run twenty paces, Jack stopped and began to run first to the right, then to the left, sniffing at something.

He was looking for game. Dad slowly, loudly slapping his boots on the water, followed the dog. And we walked behind, behind dad.

Suddenly, Jack became agitated, ran faster, and then immediately somehow all stretched out and slowly, slowly began to move forward. So he took a few steps and stopped. He stood motionless, like a dead man, all stretched out in a string. Even the tail was stretched out, and only the tip of it was trembling finely from the strong tension.

Papa quickly approached the dog, raised his gun and commanded:

- Forward!

Jack took a step back and stopped again.

- Go-go! Dad ordered again.

Jack took another step, another ... Suddenly, in front of him, in the reeds, something rustled, clapped, a large wild duck flew out from there.

Dad raised his gun and fired.

The duck somehow immediately leaned forward, rolled over in the air and plopped heavily into the water.

And Jack stood still, as if frozen.

- Give it, give it here! his father shouted cheerfully.

Here Jack immediately came to life. He rushed through the swamp straight into the river and swam after the duck.

Here she is right next to me. Jack opened his mouth to grab her. Suddenly a splash of water - and there is no duck! Jack looked around in surprise: where did she go?

- I dived! Wounded, that is! Dad exclaimed in annoyance. - Now it will hide in the reeds, you will not find it.

At this time, the duck surfaced a few steps from Jack. The dog quickly swam towards her, but as soon as he approached, the duck dived again. This was repeated several times.

We stood in the swamp, at the very edge of the water, and could do nothing to help Jack. Dad was afraid to shoot the duck again, so as not to shoot Jack by accident. And he could not catch the dodgy bird on the water. But he did not let her near the dense thickets of reeds, but squeezed her farther and farther, into clear water.

At last the duck surfaced at the very nose of Jack and immediately disappeared again under the water. At that moment, Jack also disappeared.

A second later, he again appeared on the surface, holding a caught duck in his mouth, and swam to the shore.

We rushed to him in order to quickly take the prey from him. But Jack squinted angrily at us, even grunted, and, running around, gave the duck to dad right into his hands.

- Well done, well done! Papa praised, taking the game from him. - Look, guys, how carefully he brought it - not a single feather was crushed!

We ran up to dad and began to examine the duck. She was alive and even almost not injured. The shot only slightly caught her wing, which is why she could not fly further.

“Daddy, can I take her home?” Let us live! we asked.

- Well, take it. Just be careful so that it doesn't break out of you.

When we returned from the hunt, we immediately began to arrange a room for her. We fenced off a corner in the barn, put a basin of water there and planted a duck.

The first days she was shy. She sat, huddled in a corner, ate almost nothing and did not bathe. But gradually our duck began to get used to it. She no longer ran and hid when we entered the barn, but, on the contrary, even walked towards us and willingly ate the soaked bread that we brought her.

Soon the duck became completely tame. She walked around the yard with domestic ducks, was not afraid of anyone and was not shy. Only one Jack, the duck immediately disliked - probably because he was chasing her through the swamp. When Jack happened to pass by, the duck spread its feathers, hissed angrily, and kept trying to pinch his paw or tail.

But Jack ignored her. After she settled in the barn and walked around the yard with domestic ducks, for Jack she ceased to be a game, and he lost all interest in her.

In general, Jack was not at all interested in poultry. But on the hunt I was looking for game with great enthusiasm. For days on end he could tirelessly roam the field in the heat and rain, looking for quails, or in late autumn, in the cold, climb through the swamp for ducks and, it seemed, never got tired.

Jack was an excellent hunting dog. He lived with us for a very long time, to a ripe old age. First, my father hunted with him, and then my brother and I.

When Jack was quite old and could not look for game, he was replaced by another hunting dog.

By that time, Jack was already seeing and hearing poorly, and his once brown muzzle had become completely gray.

Most of the day he slept lying in the sun on his bed or near the stove.

Jack perked up only when we were going to hunt: we put on boots, hunting jackets, took guns. Here old Jack became agitated. He began to senselessly fuss and run, also, probably, as in the old days, going hunting. But no one took him.

- At home, at home, old man, stay! Papa said to him affectionately and stroked his graying head.

Jack seemed to understand what he was being told. He looked at papa with his intelligent eyes, faded from old age, sighed, and dejectedly trudged along on his mat to the stove.

I was very sorry for the old dog, and sometimes I still went hunting with him, but not for my own, but for his pleasure. Jack had long lost his sense of smell and could no longer find any game. But on the other hand, he made excellent racks for all kinds of birds, and when a bird took off, he rushed headlong after her, trying to catch.

He made racks not only for birds, but even for butterflies, dragonflies, frogs - in general, for all living things that he came across. Of course, I did not take a gun on such a hunt.

We wandered around until Jack got tired, and then we returned home - true, without game, but very pleased with the day spent.

In the deep autumn I had a rest on the Volga near Saratov. A huge shepherd dog lived loosely at a nearby recreation center. Every morning she ran to the house where I lived to get "breakfast" from me. She knew that I would always have food for her.
One evening I was walking past the base where this shepherd lived, and I saw that she was lying not far from the road and was carefully watching me. I called out to her as if greeting her and continued to walk towards my house. When I caught up with her, she suddenly got up, jumped on me and bit me painfully.

All evening I wondered about the reason for such an ungrateful act. And he was completely surprised when he saw the dog again the next morning at his door. Then, it seems, he understood yesterday's incident: despite a close acquaintance, the shepherd dog strictly observed its watchdog functions and vigilantly guarded the territory entrusted to it.

thief

I will tell you about another dog that lived with my friend. This dog was very beautiful and smart, but when left alone in the house, it became uncontrollable. Left to her own devices, she tore curtains, gnawed furniture, ruined carpets. The hostess understood that this was how her pet expressed her anger at the forced loneliness, and could not do anything with her.

For some time now, shiny small things began to disappear in the apartment: gold rings, chains, earrings. Even the little gold watch was gone somewhere. There were no strangers in the house, and the search did not lead to anything.

Meanwhile, further living with the dog became unbearable and the woman decided to give it to other hands.
After the new owner took the four-legged friend, the hostess decided to do a general cleaning in the apartment. Under the carpet that lay on the floor, she discovered all her losses.

Rich is a jealous dog

Rich is a huge dog with thick black hair. At the bottom of his paws are painted light brown and it seems that he put on beautiful socks for style. He has an unusual pedigree: his mother is a real she-wolf, found in the mountains as a small animal and raised at home, and his father is a shepherd. Despite such formidable parents, Rich in general dog kind. She always treats my arrival kindly and even wags her tail as a sign of special disposition.

Once I came to the hostess of the house for her birthday and she hugged me in joy. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" came a sudden sound behind me. I turned around and saw a menacing grin growling at me. Apparently, he did not like the too warm welcome given to me by the hostess, and I had to calm him down.
Rich followed me all evening, and when everyone sat down at the table, he settled down at my feet. Peace was achieved only when I treated him to something tasty.

The next time Rich saw me, he growled again. Noticing, however, that no one was showing warm feelings towards me, he quickly calmed down.
Why do you think he behaved this way? He was jealous of me for his mistress.

Puppy

When I was still at school, we were given a beautiful puppy. He had a broad muzzle with large eyes, thick short paws and dark thick fur.

Our new lodger was very fond of boiled potatoes and milk. After the meal, he minced on his mat. After a while, he began to respond to the name that we gave him. The puppy grew quickly, and became so fat that it looked like a barrel.

Once he whined all morning, and then lay down in his place and fell silent. I thought he choked on a bone and opened his mouth, but he bit my finger. And he didn't make another sound. After a while he died.

They took the miserable dog to the veterinary clinic. There, the doctor opened the body and found that the entire abdomen was full of worms. And four long worms stuck out even in the throat. They strangled the poor puppy.

King

When we lived in the city of Starodub, in the Bryansk region, we had a small garden with fruit trees. So that the ripened fruits would not be stolen, the garden had to be guarded, and for this purpose we were given a dog. Or rather, a puppy. On the same day I built a wooden kennel for him, set it up in the yard, and tied the puppy to it for the night. In the morning he was not there. They stole it.
Of course, we were sad, and in the evening we went to visit relatives. We told them about our loss, and they offered us their dog, nicknamed Lady. The lady was small, similar in muzzle and red fur coat to a fox.

They brought her home, tied her up, and went into the rooms themselves. After a while I go out to visit - there is no Lady. A rope with a collar is lying on the ground - which means that she herself got out of the collar and ran away. However, she soon returned, and we fed her. And the next time, when she wanted to take a walk, she easily left her collar and again ran back.
The lady was a quiet dog, did not bark, but we wanted her voice to be heard far beyond the fence. At night, however, she slept peacefully, and we had to guard the garden.

Once, however, the Lady broke off her leash, rushed at an elderly woman and tore her dress. But that only brought us trouble.

Sometimes our "guard" would run away for a few days, and after that she would appear thin, hungry and wagging her tail guiltily. Somehow she ran away once again and did not return - we did not see her again.

Angry dog

It happened in Kazakhstan, where I once lived. I had to get into one house, but a huge angry dog ​​lived in his yard. No matter how much I knocked on the window that overlooked the street, no one answered. From the house, meanwhile, came voices. What to do, how to enter the house?

I thought that dogs, no matter how evil they are, also have fear, like people. He opened the gate and entered the yard. The terrible dog with a wild bark rushed at me, but the chain holding him made it impossible to approach me. However, I still could not go into the house - then I would have to close the distance between me and the dog, and she could grab me with her teeth. But I made up my mind: I began to approach the house very slowly. The dog got even angrier. Before him there was very little, and I came closer and closer. And suddenly he... backed away from me! I took another step. Now the dog could bite me if he wanted to, but he continued to move back. Until I drove him completely into a kennel.

In Moscow, in a quiet lane, there is the Moscow City Service Dog Breeding Club. When I first came to the old premises of this club, I involuntarily drew attention to the stuffed animal of a huge dog with protruding ears. Below, at the feet of the dog, one could read her nickname: "Karo".

Karo was a wonderful dog, an all-Union champion. Champion means "winner". Here Karo also was the winner at all dog shows.

I was interested in the fate of Karo. From conversations with club instructors who were dog handlers during the war, I learned that Karo is just one of many wonderful dogs that faithfully serve man. I began to write down everything that was told by instructors and dog owners who often come to the club. And so many stories have gathered about dogs that took the wounded from the battlefield during the war, helped sappers find mines, went with scouts behind enemy lines, and about dogs that save travelers during landslides or snow drifts in the mountains, and about dogs, who guard apartments and go shopping with their owners, and even about a dog that I raised myself.

The Moscow Service Dog Breeding Club has playgrounds in various Moscow parks. Every Sunday dog ​​owners, including many boys and girls, bring their animals there for training. Dogs jump over barriers, learn to follow various commands.

Every trained dog must be fluent in as many as fifteen dog disciplines. As if these disciplines are simple and each consists of only one word: “next to”, “sit”, “fetch”, “to me”, “lie down”, and try to teach the dog to walk the way it is supposed to - clinging tightly to the left side of the owner, instantly lie down and get up, bark on command. It takes a lot of patience and perseverance. You can’t get angry and annoy the dog yourself; one must be able to caress the animal, praise it if it performed the command well, give a piece of sugar, sausage or meat.

But there are still guys who tease dogs, beat them, not realizing that they are true friends of man.

I decided to tell all the stories that I happened to collect to my little readers.

Those dogs that you will read about in this book - and Dick, and Dzhulbars, and Reggie, and Malysh, and Orlik, and Elbrus, and Chalk and Rozka - are real, living dogs. The stories about them are not made up.

Slava was still in the fifth grade, when dad brought home a light gray fluffy ball. From this ball of soft wool, only a black cold nose peeped out and brown eyes, like small chestnuts, blinked.

This is Palma, said dad. - If you study well, I will allow you to raise a dog, train it.

Slava fell in love with the puppy, walked with him, played and tried to bring home only fives.

In the summer everyone went to the country. Palme made a bed in the shed. Next to her, behind a low partition, lived a heifer. At first, Palma was angry with her, growled, and, although she was ten times smaller than the heifer, she even bit her good-natured muzzle. Then I got used to it. They became friends ... They walked together. When the heifer was sleeping, Palma climbed onto her head and settled comfortably between her big ears. The two of them slept so sweetly that snoring could be heard from the barn.

They were very good and fun together. And, if some other dog ran up to the heifer, Palma growled at her.

When the family returned to the city, Palma immediately had enemies: on the street - a car, and at home - a broom. Palm looked at the brush for a long time from around the corner. She doesn't look like anyone else! And it doesn’t look like a cat, and it doesn’t look like a dog: there is no muzzle, no tail, and the hair is black, hard! The palm tree could not in any way pass the brush indifferently - it will bite it quietly, then it will bounce off and sideways, sideways away ...

The cat Barsik lived in a city apartment. Somehow Palma wanted to play with him. But the cat was not young, did not like liberties, and grabbed Palma in the muzzle with his paw. And on his paws he has sharp claws, like thorns on a fence. Palma squealed and since then began to politely bypass Barsik. If Barsik is lying on a chair, Palma does not even look in that direction, as if there is no chair.

Once Barsik was given two pieces of sausage. He ate one piece, but did not begin the second: he left it on a saucer and went to sleep on the sofa. Palma cautiously approached the sausage, sniffed it, wanted to take it, but at that time Barsik raised his head. Palma dropped the sausage, licked her lips and moved away from the saucer.

One day my dad said:

Well, how long will you be chasing each other to no avail? You need to learn Palma.

Slava went to the kennel club and talked to the instructor there. He said that if he wants to teach a dog to obey, he must first complete the course of young dog breeders himself.

So the classes began: in the evening, after school, Slava studied with an instructor, and early in the morning he taught Palma.

Oh how difficult it was at first! Palma thought that they were playing with her: she jumped, grabbed Slava by the pants and did not pay any attention to his commands. Many days passed until Palma realized that if Slava says “to me”, you need to run up to the owner and obediently walk beside him. The command “stop” was especially difficult to remember. This is not because Palma is such a goofy dog, but because she is lively, agile, loves to run and hates to stand still.

Gradually, Palma became quieter, more restrained. Sometimes, however, she forgot herself and began to misbehave on the street: she rushed to small children to play with them, ran away from the owner. Then Slava said menacingly to her: “Fu!” It means “no”, “stop”, “stop”. With this prohibition command, Palma immediately stopped with a guilty look.

When Slava trained Palma in the yard, spectators gathered. But Palma ignored them. She looked only at Slava with her moist brown eyes. Everyone laughed a lot when Slava commanded: “Voice!” Then Palma barked briefly, abruptly. Barks twice: "Woof, woof!" - and waits for Slava to repeat his command again.

When Palma correctly followed Slava's orders, he told her every time: "Good!" - stroked and gave something tasty: a piece of sausage, meat or sugar. Sausage Slava began to call himself a four, and sugar - a five. He was so used to it that once at breakfast he said to his mother:

Unsweetened tea, give five!

And everyone laughed.

Once Slava accidentally deceived Palma. He told her: "Walk!" Palma ran for a leash, for a collar, put them near Glory and wagged her tail. She was always very happy when they were going for a walk.

But someone came, Slava lingered and forgot that he wanted to go for a walk with Palma.

Then he called Palma again, but she no longer believed him and did not bring her leash. Slava told the trainer on the playground about this, and he said:

Never cheat on a dog. She must be sure to trust her master. You deceive her once, twice, a third, and then she will cease to obey at all.

Since then, Slava has never deceived Palma.

Slava and Palma are great friends. Palma guards his little master, guards the apartment.

Once firewood was brought to Slavin's parents. Firewood was dumped right on the street, and there was no one to put it in the barn - everyone was at work. Then Slava said: “Guard!” The palm tree lay down near the firewood and looked at everyone passing by with distrustful, wary eyes.

Slava's comrades decided to play a trick: they silently crept up from the other side and pulled out a few logs. Palma jumped up and rushed at the guys. No one else dared to approach the firewood while the Palm lay beside them.

Guard dog

In the deep autumn I had a rest on the Volga near Saratov. A huge shepherd dog lived loosely at a nearby recreation center. Every morning she ran to the house where I lived to get "breakfast" from me. She knew that I would always have food for her.
One evening I was walking past the base where this shepherd lived, and I saw that she was lying not far from the road and was carefully watching me. I called out to her as if greeting her and continued to walk towards my house. When I caught up with her, she suddenly got up, jumped on me and bit me painfully.
All evening I wondered about the reason for such an ungrateful act. And he was completely surprised when he saw the dog again the next morning at his door. Then, it seems, he understood yesterday's incident: despite a close acquaintance, the shepherd dog strictly observed its watchdog functions and vigilantly guarded the territory entrusted to it.

V o r and sh k a

I will tell you about another dog that lived with my friend. This dog was very beautiful and smart, but when left alone in the house, it became uncontrollable. Left to her own devices, she tore curtains, gnawed furniture, ruined carpets. The hostess understood that this was how her pet expressed her anger at the forced loneliness, and could not do anything with her.
For some time now, shiny small things began to disappear in the apartment: gold rings, chains, earrings. Even the little gold watch was gone somewhere. There were no strangers in the house, and the search did not lead to anything.
Meanwhile, further living with the dog became unbearable and the woman decided to give it to other hands.
After the new owner took the four-legged friend, the hostess decided to do a general cleaning in the apartment. Under the carpet that lay on the floor, she discovered all her losses.

R and h - r e v n i v y p e s

Rich is a huge dog with thick black hair. At the bottom of his paws are painted light brown and it seems that he put on beautiful socks for style. He has an unusual pedigree: his mother is a real she-wolf, found in the mountains as a small animal and raised at home, and his father is a shepherd. Despite such formidable parents, Rich is generally a kind dog. She always treats my arrival kindly and even wags her tail as a sign of special disposition.
Once I came to the hostess of the house for her birthday and she hugged me in joy. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" came a sudden sound behind me. I turned around and saw a menacing grin growling at me. Apparently, he did not like the too warm welcome given to me by the hostess, and I had to calm him down.
Rich followed me all evening, and when everyone sat down at the table, he settled down at my feet. Peace was achieved only when I treated him to something tasty.
The next time Rich saw me, he growled again. Noticing, however, that no one was showing warm feelings towards me, he quickly calmed down.
Why do you think he behaved this way? He was jealous of me for his mistress.

When I was still at school, we were given a beautiful puppy. He had a wide muzzle with large eyes, thick short legs and dark thick hair.
Our new lodger was very fond of boiled potatoes and milk. After the meal, he minced on his mat. After a while, he began to respond to the name that we gave him. The puppy grew quickly, and became so fat that it looked like a barrel.
Once he whined all morning, and then lay down in his place and fell silent. I thought he choked on a bone and opened his mouth, but he bit my finger. And he didn't make another sound. After a while he died.
They took the miserable dog to the veterinary clinic. There, the doctor opened the body and found that the entire abdomen was full of worms. And four long worms stuck out even in the throat. They strangled the poor puppy.

When we lived in the city of Starodub, in the Bryansk region, we had a small garden with fruit trees. So that the ripened fruits would not be stolen, the garden had to be guarded, and for this purpose we were given a dog. Or rather, a puppy. On the same day I built a wooden kennel for him, set it up in the yard, and tied the puppy to it for the night. In the morning he was not there. They stole it.
Of course, we were sad, and in the evening we went to visit relatives. We told them about our loss, and they offered us their dog, nicknamed Lady. The lady was small, similar in muzzle and red fur coat to a fox.
They brought her home, tied her up, and went into the rooms themselves. After a while I go out to visit - there is no Lady. A rope with a collar is lying on the ground - which means that she herself got out of the collar and ran away. However, she soon returned, and we fed her. And the next time, when she wanted to take a walk, she easily left her collar and again ran back.
The lady was a quiet dog, did not bark, but we wanted her voice to be heard far beyond the fence. At night, however, she slept peacefully, and we had to guard the garden.
Once, however, the Lady broke off her leash, rushed at an elderly woman and tore her dress. But that only brought us trouble.
Sometimes our "guard" would run away for a few days, and after that she would appear thin, hungry and wagging her tail guiltily. Somehow she ran away once again and did not return - we did not see her again.

Angry dog

It happened in Kazakhstan, where I once lived. I had to get into one house, but a huge angry dog ​​lived in his yard. No matter how much I knocked on the window that overlooked the street, no one answered. From the house, meanwhile, came voices. What to do, how to enter the house?
I thought that dogs, no matter how evil they are, also have fear, like people. He opened the gate and entered the yard. The terrible dog with a wild bark rushed at me, but the chain holding him made it impossible to approach me. However, I still could not go into the house - then I would have to close the distance between me and the dog, and she could grab me with her teeth. But I made up my mind: I began to approach the house very slowly. The dog got even angrier. Before him there was very little, and I came closer and closer. And suddenly he... backed away from me! I took another step. Now the dog could bite me if he wanted to, but he continued to move back. Until I drove him completely into a kennel.

After that I went towards the front door of the house. The dog continued to sit in the kennel and did not even make an attempt to prevent me. That's Entrance door. He knocked and, having received permission, entered the house. There were a lot of people in it, they were very noisy and therefore did not hear my knock on the window. But the owners were terribly surprised how I could walk through the yard past their angry dog.
Having finished his work, he went to the exit. The mistress delayed me to tie the dog to a short chain. When I walked across the yard, she again rushed and barked loudly, but she could no longer do anything to me. I safely reached the gate and went out into the street.

The Fly story.