Monday, June 10, 2013


Having a large dog in an apartment was not a simple matter. We were a busy family; at times there was no one to even take Elf for a walk. Often we'd just let him run out of the door and take care of the business by himself. One day, my sister, Lera, who was constantly trying to make her thin hair look better, came home with a new dye job. It turned out looking like orange and lifeless brass. That evening, Elf went out by himself. In a few minutes, he came back and excitedly deposited a dead kitten at my sister's feet. The kitten's pelt was the same hue as Lera's hair! 
Another time, it was the morning. I slept in the living room then. Dad was suppose to take Elf out for a walk, but he kept delaying, talking to mom about something. Elf was becoming more and more desperate. He ran back and forward with a leash in his mouth, jumped on my father's back - nothing helped. What happened next, occured right in front of me. Elf trotted to dad's suit jacket, hanging on the chair, and gracefully lifted his leg. He aimed well: dad never wore that jacket again. 

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