My faithful friend Muravyed (Anteater) had suddenly fallen ill and lost flesh. Somebody must have given her a needle with food. She stopped eating. Yet, shaking from giddiness, she did her dog"s duty to the end standing guard over the pigsty. She even tried to help me in the day time.
- Please, don"t, Myravyed, - I would tell her - Lie at rest. I can cope with my task. Eat something...
A begged her to have at least some food, but the poor one, sticking her nose to me and wagging her tail, would long keep looking somewhere into the distance. And she kept silent. I called the animal technician Yegitnabigulla. He examined Muravyed and said in a high female voice:
- Oh, my dear brother, your dog is seriously ill, and it"s incurable.
- Isn"t there any hope- I asked?
- Yegitnabigulla, smiling cunningly like a prostitute and stroking his thin mustache with his little finger, said looking at me askance:
- Well, if you give me some money to pay for my lunch, your dog can be cured.
Giving him all the money I had about me I said:
-Take it.
- Yegitnabigulla promised to came back and bring the necessary medication but never came.
My dog disappeared. Calling her, I looked for her everywhere. But she did not respond, as if she had vanished into thin air.
The next day I found her dead beyond Khasan Abu Dovud"s cotton fields. The poor dog had run away not willing to cause me pain and died there. She must have walked around until she died.
I stood over her body involuntary tears running from my eyes. Her hair was waving like grass in the meadow. I went down on my knees and started crying:
- Muravyed, my dear, Murik, pardon me, please, my friend... Pardon me for not being able to help you during the hard times... Sorry if I hurt you unintentionally. I have learnt a lot from you. You would suffer but you never complain. I am not capable of that. I see now that I was attached to you. I will never forget you.
With these words I stroked her and wrapping her in my jacket made my way to the pig farm.
My friend Matash was there. On seeing Myravyed"s body he, too, started crying. I left him the key to the watch-house and left for home. While I walked it was getting dusky. When my wife and the kids saw Muravyed"s dead body they hanged their heads in tears. Sobbing bitterly, Babat, said recalling our dog:
- Poor Muravyed, she was a holy animal. She loved our children. She never had a grudge against anybody. She would forgive the one who had offended her. She pardoned me even when I beat her with a broom...
In such a bad state of mood we buried her in the honorary place of our yard. We buried her like a human.
In the morning Kalankhan Adalatov called round to convey his condolences. As a sign of mourning he took off his hat which he bought after he had lost his famous leatherette hat at the wedding party where the fight took place. After a minute of silence Kalankhan Adalatov began to speak:
-You know , Al Kazim, your dog was a human being in the make-up of a dog. She respected me. When I was passing by she would get up wagging her tail. As for you, sorry for telling you that, but I have to say it, you are a dog in the make-up of a man. If you had fed her well she wouldn"t have died.
Adalatov furtively wiped his tears. Taking my chance, I said:
- Comrade Kalankhan Adalatov, I have given it all up. I mean, I have given up my bad habits, and I am sick and tired of being a swine-herd. May I go back to my former job?
He stopped at the door, reflecting on my words. Then, turning abruptly his face to me, he said: