Short Fiction by Aleksandr Kuprin (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

The dogs all began to try and think of a way.

“Bite them all, and have an end of it!” said the big dog in his angry bass.

“Yes, that’s the way; we need a radical remedy,” seconded the servile Bouton. “In the end they’ll be afraid of us.”

“Yes, bite them all⁠—that’s a splendid idea,” said the old poodle. “But what’s your opinion, dear sirs, about their long whips? No doubt you’re acquainted with them!”

“H’m.” The dog coughed and cleared his throat.

“H’m,” echoed Bouton.

“No, take my word for it, gentlemen, we cannot struggle against men. I’ve lived in this world for some time, and I’ve not had a bad life.⁠ ⁠… Take for example such simple things as kennels, whips, chains, muzzles⁠—things, I imagine, not unknown to any one of us. Let us suppose that we dogs succeed in thinking out a plan which will free us from these things. Will not man then arm himself with more perfect instruments? There is no doubt that he will. Haven’t you seen what instruments of torture they make for one another? No, we must submit to them, gentlemen, that’s all about it. It’s a law of Nature.”

“Well, he’s shown us his philosophy,” whispered the dachshund in Jack’s ear. “I’ve no patience with these old folks and their teaching.”

“You’re quite right, mademoiselle,” said Jack, gallantly wagging his tail.

The mouse-coloured dog was looking very melancholy and snapping at the flies. He drawled out in a whining tone:

“Eh, it’s a dog’s life!”

“And where is the justice of it all?”⁠—the greyhound, who had been silent up to this point, began to agitate herself⁠—“You, Mr. Poodle, pardon me, I haven’t the honour of knowing your name.”

“Arto, professor of equilibristics, at your service.” The poodle bowed.

“Well, tell me, Mr. Professor, you have apparently had such great experience, let alone your learning⁠—tell me, where is the higher justice of it all? Are human beings so much more worthy and better than we are, that they are allowed to take advantage of so many cruel privileges with impunity?”

“They are not any better or any more worthy than we are, dear young lady, but they are stronger and wiser,” answered Arto, with some heat. “Oh, I know the morals of these two-legged animals very well.⁠ ⁠… In the first place, they are greedy⁠—greedier than any dog on earth. They have so much bread and meat and water that all these monsters could be satisfied and well-fed all their lives. But instead of sharing it out, a tenth of them get all the provisions for life into their hands, and not being able to devour it all themselves, they force the remaining nine-tenths to go hungry. Now, tell me, is it possible that a well-fed dog would not share a gnawed bone with his neighbour?”

“He’d share it, of course he would!” agreed all the listeners.

“H’m,” coughed the dog doubtfully.

“And besides that, people are wicked. Who could ever say that one dog would kill another⁠—on account of love or envy or malice? We bite one another sometimes, that’s true. But we don’t take each other’s lives.”

“No, indeed we don’t,” they all affirmed.

“And more than this,” went on the white poodle. “Could one dog make up his mind not to allow another dog to breathe the fresh air, or to be free to express his thoughts as to the arrangements for the happiness of dogs? But men do this.”

“Devil take them!” put in the mouse-coloured dog energetically.

“And, in conclusion, I say that men are hypocrites; they envy one another, they lie, they are inhospitable, cruel.⁠ ⁠… And yet they rule over us, and will continue to do so⁠ ⁠… because it’s arranged like that. It is impossible for us to free ourselves from their authority. All the life of dogs, and all their happiness, is in the hands of men. In our present position each one of us, who has a good master, ought to thank Fate. Only a master can free us from the pleasure of eating a comrade’s flesh, and of imagining that comrade’s feelings when he was being skinned alive.”

The professor’s speech reduced the whole company to a state of melancholy. No other dog could utter a word. They all shivered helplessly, and shook with the joltings of the cart. The big dog whined piteously. Bouton, who was standing next to him, pressed his own body softly up against him.

But soon they felt that the wheels of the cart were passing over sand. In five minutes more they were driven through wide open gates, and they found themselves in the middle of an immense courtyard surrounded by a close paling. Sharp nails were sticking out at the top of the paling. Two hundred dogs, lean and dirty, with drooping tails and a look of melancholy on their faces, wandered about the yard.

The doors of the cage were flung open. All the seven newcomers came forth and instinctively stood together in one group.

“Here, you professor, how do you feel now?” The poodle heard a bark behind him.

He turned round and saw the violet-coloured dog smiling insolently at him.

“Oh, leave me alone,” growled the old poodle. “It’s no business of yours.”

“I only made a remark,” said the other. “You spoke such words of wisdom in the cart, but you made one mistake. Yes, you did.”

“Get away, devil take you! What mistake?”

“About a dog’s happiness. If you like, I’ll show you in whose hands a dog’s happiness lies.”

And suddenly pressing back his ears and extending his tail, the violet dog set out on such a mad career that the old professor of equilibristics could only stand and watch him with open mouth.

“Catch him! Stop him!” shouted the keepers, flinging themselves in pursuit of the escaping dog. But the violet dog had already gained the paling. With one bound he sprang up from the ground and found himself at the top, hanging on by his forepaws. And in two more convulsive springs he had leaped over the paling, leaving on the nails a good half of