And everything said one thing: the dog was completely healthy. Everything and everyone said that… Except for one "but". His eyes. Catherine saw death in them. Yes, she was young, but still a journalist who had been many places and seen many things. You can't confuse death with anything, death is the same everywhere. And now this death sat inside this beast and laughed at her.

She had to do something. That strange "something." Something else when everything was already done. When everyone had said there was nothing to do. She wanted to talk to Gustave. Her picture of happiness with him was threatened. He had trusted her. Trusted this puppy who just stopped eating on the second day.

It wasn't in her plan to call him herself, even this early. Men never lasted more than 24 hours. But not him. He was different. And that seemed fateful to her. Different and made just for her. And he must understand. It wasn't her fault the puppy wouldn't eat. She'd done everything she could. What she had to. And maybe it's not a big deal. But still. We should call him.

Gustav picked up the phone almost immediately: "Yes, Katherine. Hi"

The first thing she did, of course, was smile, "Gustic, I… How are you doing?" She didn't want to talk about anyone else but them anymore. Except their future. Except for the happiness that awaited them.

"Great. Just a bit busy. How's Dobby?"

She faltered. What's wrong with him? There was nothing wrong with him. After all, what she'd made up: a bunch of doctors with a lot of modern medicine for a lot of money hadn't found any cause for concern at all. Not that there were any ailments. And to give the puppy back to him in a week anyway. He's already asking for food.....

"Dobby's fine. I just don't know when he wants to eat… But fine. I consulted a couple of doctors I know, and they said it happens. So… I'll see you around?" – The final phrase popped out just out of breath after a full set of words and didn't fit well with Gustav's last sentence-it started to look like she hadn't been listening to him: "I mean, I was wondering if we could go for a walk sometime when you're free?"

–

Sure. Sure, we'll go for a walk.

–

And I also wanted to ask about the puppy.....

Gustav interrupted her: "By the way, yes. I was going to pick it up early. Almost finished with everything. Faster than I expected, and I'll pick it up… How about the day after tomorrow afternoon? 3 o'clock?"

Catherine exhaled a sigh of relief: "Yes, of course. We'll go for a walk then, won't we?"

–

Yes, yes, absolutely. What were you going to say about Dobby? Because I interrupted. He's all right, isn't he?"

–

No, it's nothing. – she smiled softly into the phone. – It's just that I think I'm starting to miss you already.....

After talking for a few more easy minutes and saying good night, Catherine hung up the phone and stood up from the table and headed for the refrigerator. A red dry Burgundy was on the door. Pouring a full glass, she drank it halfway and smiled. He'd be with her soon. Everything is going right for them. She knows how to take care of her other half and she'll certainly be able to take care of him too.

Just like he will take care of her.

Kathryn turned and met her eyes again with the puppy, who was lying in exactly the same position as he had been since morning. "There's nothing wrong with him. – thought the girl. – He's just sad for his master. Why did I get so excited. He gave the dog to me for foster care. I've been doing everything right. It's not like he's not eating. It happens. Other people wouldn't have done any tests, let alone seen the best doctors. I've got everyone on edge. And for what? There's no reason to do it. And the puppy's young. He's not gonna die on his own. The tests are normal, so he'll live. And in the end, even if he dies, it won't be in three days. And then Gustave will take care of himself. A man like that will figure out anything.

What do I have to decide? Too much responsibility for me, I'm tired of it… Although maybe I should have asked him why the dog stopped eating? At least he would know… Bullshit! It's none of my business. Did I do everything he asked? You did. The dog is alive and well, of course. Anyone can see he's healthy. And panic is hysteria, which is something you have to get rid of. And Gustav wouldn't like it if I worried for nothing. There's nothing wrong here. In three days, I won't care about any of this at all. He can take the puppy and let it die in a minute, it's not my responsibility… It's my responsibility to be happy. And Gustave will have to take care of that now. I have to be beautiful and keep him on a shorter leash. It'll all work out, just as it always has."

Catherine turned her eyes away from the dog and poured herself a second glass.

Outside the window the wind blew again, the trees swayed, danced and began to hug each other like old friends.

Now it was necessary to go to the nearest store, to buy alcohol for the realization of another interesting idea – Vladimir Arkadyevich had a daughter with two incomparable but not uncommon features of physiology: addiction to alcohol and diseased kidneys at the same time. She had certainly taken a liking to him two months ago, and she had made it clear more than once that she wanted more than just to admire him from afar.

By the time Gustav got into the car, it had already begun to rain outside the window, not heavily, but obviously it was beginning to last. The Irishman loved this kind of weather – it suited his meditations perfectly, and it suited even better the moods of people who were upset and distressed by it, assuring themselves that "the sky was now crying with them". A surprisingly childlike view of nature, often present in historical descriptions: battles, coronations of kings, inaugurations of presidents are described by different people with directly opposite weather, as if we are talking about different events, time and place. The tireless desire to confirm one's opinion, to predispose oneself, to create the necessary background, and it is so easy when there is such a powerful but mute force, so vividly expressing one's opinion, an endless source of confirmation of any ideas and thoughts. And, apparently, many people considered it a sin not to use it for their own purposes.

Once upon a time in Russia "blind rains", i.e. rains coming in the light of the

Sun, were called "Tsarevna Crying" because the glistening drops resembled tears. There was at least some basis for such a designation. But it seemed hypocritical to make political propaganda out of nature.

"These are the sort of things that vividly reflect the lowliness of man. – Gustav thought as he started the car. – They deserve to die and nothing more.

It took about 7-8 minutes to get there, around a few turns there was a separate building, still from the times of the USSR, where the service, prices and the general atmosphere were not suitable to sell alcohol, including of illegal origin, and including during the forbidden time.

There was some sort of parking lot in front of the building. And now there was a gray Lada of the ninth model, all the doors of which were open wide. Two men were sitting inside, with their feet out on the street. They could see from their eyes that they had drunk a lot, and that there was probably just as much to drink. "Hear this, bro! – shouted one of them to Gustav. – That's a cool car. Give us a ride, say on.... Beer." Even from ten meters away, the amber from the stoned and poured over the collar was quite vile and acrid, as if it had been layered on the skin for a long time.

Bullheaded, semi-hooligans. Hardly able to tell the difference between Einstein and Eisenstein. They haven't read a single book since high school, not just Remarque or Steinbeck, but any book at all. No ethics, no aesthetics. But a pronounced desire to imbibe alcohol and demand it from others, as if they owed it to them. After all, someone should occupy this niche, and if you don't want to do it yourself, then pay the one who takes this place for you. And pay so that he has enough to occupy it further. Or else he will drag you in, either at the same time, or instead of himself....