“I call him ‘Morel.’ I can’t stand old people! Useless people. Why are they even around?” Nika laughed.
“Especially this one, he’s so disgusting! Whenever I walk Dior, I always run into his mug in the window. Sits there with his pipe, reading his newspaper. A mammoth! In this day and age! He probably hasn’t even heard of something like an iPhone. Just grows his geraniums and violets. Flowers are so last century. And those ancient windows of his… At his age, with a decent pension, he could have replaced them. He must just waste all his money. Morel!” The pretty young brunette Nika sneered with contempt.
She was saying this to her friend Sveta, while the latter admired Nika’s new renovations.
She and her husband had recently moved into this building.
They bought two apartments and combined them into one.
Nika’s husband, Alexey, ran a business with his father: a furniture workshop plus several grocery stores.
She herself didn’t work. She took care of herself and her Chinese Crested dog named Dior, whom she called “my baby.”
After laughing plenty about the neighbor, Nika went off to show Sveta her new dresses.
Maybe someone could have wagged a finger here,
given her a lecture about disrespecting the older generation.
And Nika would have sent everyone very, very far away, without understanding anything.
But life itself taught her a lesson.
Here’s how.
One day Nika and Alexey were heading to their dacha.
Her husband drove up, talking on the phone at the same time.
Just then Nika got a call from her friend. She had brought her a gift from Paris.
Nika’s hands were itching to grab it right away—especially since her friend lived in the neighboring building and had a dacha in the same area.
“Lesha! Go without me! Lesha! I’ll get there with Nadya! Dior’s already asleep, so take him with you!” Nika flitted off.
Her husband half-listened, talking with suppliers. He only nodded.
But Dior woke up instantly. And a minute before his owner closed the door and drove off, he jumped out of the car.
The little dog was a pampered, timid creature. He wanted to run after his mistress, but she was already gone without a trace. Trembling, he sat down near the porch.
Soon some local drifters came giggling over, plagued by one question: where to get money for booze?
“Hey, that dog’s probably worth a lot, huh?” said one nicknamed Crutch to another.
“You bet!” the other declared authoritatively.
“Then we gotta… you know. The yard’s empty, everyone’s gone, no one’ll see,” and Crutch decisively moved toward Dior.
The trio surrounded Dior. He didn’t even think of running; he was too scared. Crutch reached out his hand…
And at the dacha, the windows were rattling: Nika was screaming.
Her husband Alexey frantically tore through the car and searched every corner of the dacha—the dog was nowhere.
“When you drove off, he was asleep?” sobbed his wife, smearing mascara across her face.
“Well… I think so,” he whispered.
“What do you mean you think so? You didn’t check?”
“You see, I got a call. Before that he was definitely asleep, and when I drove off, I was on the phone… Listen, could he have jumped out of the car at that moment?” Alexey said in shock.
Soon they were racing back to the city.
Dior wasn’t at the building entrance. Only Aleutina, the energetic head of the building committee, was fussing near the flowerbed.
“You… you didn’t see? Here… Didn’t see?” Nika was sobbing so hard she couldn’t even say who Aleutina was supposed to have seen, only gestured with her hands.
“Your bald one, you mean? I saw him. And I wasn’t the only one. Crutch and his pals tried to sell him here. I saw it from my balcony, started yelling at them, and they cursed me out something fierce! I didn’t go outside though, they’re all nuts,” Aleutina responded.
“Were you scared? You could have helped!” Alexey shouted.
“Why should I? Take a beating for your bald dog? It’s Demidych who’s brave. He can barely walk, but he ran out. Three big guys and he’s all alone, skinny as a stick. He grabbed your bald one and said: ‘I won’t give him up. Go ahead, try and take him!’” Aleutina grumbled.
“Demidych? Who’s that?” Alexey asked.
“Why, he lives below you!” she waved dismissively.
Nika dashed into the building. That’s where that very old man lived. The one she and Sveta laughed at. The one she called “Morel.”
Turns out… he was the only one who stood up for her Dior? But how? He’s so frail. Skinny, tiny. And yet he wasn’t afraid.
Alexey rang the doorbell.
The door opened. The scent of cinnamon buns wafted out.
On the threshold stood an old man in a worn flannel shirt and warm socks. He squinted nearsightedly, like a little gnome.
“I… We…” Nika was breathless again.
“Oh, hello, hello, young folks! Come in, daughter! He’s right here, in the little room sleeping. On the cot, on the blanket. I told him fairy tales until he fell asleep. Poor thing was so scared. My, how beautiful he is. I’ve never seen one like him before. We didn’t have dogs like that in my day. Such a wonderful name too. Can’t remember it!” the old man beamed.
“Dior,” Nika sniffled.
Soon she was holding her pet in her arms. Her husband stood silently nearby.
Inside it was poor but neat.
An iron bed with round knobs.
A crocheted rug.
A table with oilcloth.
Faded curtains.
But very clean.
The old man bustled about. He put buns on the table and poured tea.
Alexey chatted with him.
It turned out Anatoly Demidovich lived alone.
He has a niece, but she’s single with a sick child.
He gives them almost his entire pension.
How could he not? They need help. But it’s enough for him to live on.
Nika sat red-faced. From shame.
“Called him Morel. And he helps. Gives away all his money. I wouldn’t have done that. And… he stood up for Dior. How wasn’t he afraid? He’s like a blade of grass!” she thought.
“Come visit, daughter! I love looking at young faces! And bring this sweetie along! When I put him to bed, I took out a clean little duvet cover, my grandma even made lace for it,” the old man said simply, stroking Dior.
At home Nika went to her room, sat in a chair, and cried even harder.
“What’s wrong? He’s safe now!” her husband was surprised.
And she told him everything about the old man, about herself, about Sveta.
Alexey frowned.
When her friend came over again, Nika looked out the window into the yard. There was Anatoly Demidovich.
“Oh, there’s that… what did you call him? Morel, right?” Sveta giggled.
“You’re the Morel! Say that again and don’t come to my house anymore, got it? Shut your mouth, I won’t repeat myself twice!” Nika snapped.
Sveta fell silent, offended.
And Nika and her husband renovated the old man’s apartment.
They bring him groceries.
Take him to the dacha with them.
Dior loves him dearly.
They kind of adopted him, so to speak.
And Anatoly Demidovich calls them “my grandkids.”
He gets very embarrassed when they bring him something. Says there’s no need.
A simple, kind man. Who truly believes he didn’t do anything special…