I don’t know why, but I remember something from my youth. She was quiet, adventurous, with constant attempts to look at the world from her own angle.
After 2 courses, we, geologists, were expected to practice at the Crimean field, where in two months we had to make our first geological map. We were looking forward to the practice, because we were already on the field after 1 course. Immersion in the profession in the Crimean mountains in the summer is a fairy tale!
Before the practice, a car with cargo (instruments, equipment, etc.) was sent to the base. Usually it was ZIL-131, which quietly reached the base in a couple of days under the control of Uncle Cole's driver, who went through more than one geological expedition behind the lamb. That year, for some reason, I decided that it would be boring for him alone and more fun with me. Long before the end of May I began to handle the curator of the course, that Uncle Cole needs a partner and an assistant, alone he will be difficult and dangerous. The curator of course understood that I just very much want to travel to Crimea by car, but he did not submit and agreed. Uncle Kolya, having met me on the eve of his departure as his uninvited savior, ordered me to appear by 6 in the morning at the last bus stop on the Kashir Highway before leaving the city, to have all his things with him and not to be late!
It was only possible to get there by 6 in the morning by a taxi, which I, as a student, didn’t even think of. So I put all the things in my backpack and set out late in the evening to spend the night somewhere under the bush and be at a stop at 6 a.m. I found the stop quickly, but where to stay here is unclear. Behind the stop a long fence, on the contrary - some kind of promzone, no decent bushes. As I realized, it started to rain. Dark, wet... I went to the industrial area, found some kind of concrete fence, grown with grass, and decided that there would be my house until morning. Everything around is wet, and despite the end of May, it is cold. I am a geologist! He threw the carpet to the ground, got the polyethylene film, which he usually used in the summer instead of a tent, and hid it. It rains on the film, it’s cold, the clothes are wet, but over time it’s stuck.
I woke up from what happened to me. I open my eyes – it’s night, it’s raining, nothing can be seen, but next to me someone is breathing and my foot is standing. I ask in the dark, “What do I need?” In response, silence, then some whirling, then they lay down on me. It is hard, uncomfortable, who lies - it is not clear what needs to be - it is unclear. The first magical thought that came to my mind collided with the smell that I finally felt—no, not female perfumes. He carefully pulled his hand out of the film and quietly began to explore the space around him. The idea was not confirmed again - instead of a gentle warm skin, he felt a wet rough wool. He slipped my hand and then bitten me a little. The first thought was finally gone – the teeth were inhuman. A pragmatic touch drawn in the dark 3D model of a huge fat dog (or wolf?She lay on me, using it as a carpet. In a laying condition, she was not much smaller than me and very heavy. She was slippery to lie on wet polyethylene, she was moving all the time, trying not to drive away from me, and it was impossible to sleep in such conditions. She didn’t want to talk to me, to leave, too: I was warmer than the wet soil. And I started to warm up under it. The ambiguous decision did not come immediately, but after a few waves and attempts to agree in a good way: I partially turned out of the film, the dog lay next to me on the carpet, after which I covered the film already with her together. It smelled of wet wool, but it was somewhat pleasant, not a dog; she laid my head on my arm, on which my head was lying. I warm her back, and she warms my stomach. In a dream, she shrugged, scratched, sometimes licked my hand, but it felt like something completely strange was dreaming of her... It was still 5 o’clock in the morning, and pretty soon I finally fell asleep, warming up and even drying a little from the dog.
The alarm clock ringed at 5-30 in the morning. It was sunny, the rain stopped, but it was still raining. Next to me, stretching out all the length, there was a large black dog lying on the right side and singing, similar to a Labrador, but much larger. I knocked her in the nose and said, “Dog, I need to get up!” She opened her upper eye, looked closely at me and removed my head from my hand. I carefully got out of the film, fixed the skeleton and looked around. It was the edge of the construction site, we slept under the fence, 100 meters to the highway. The dog continued to sleep. As I pulled out the carpet underneath her, I saw that it was really a dog, 5-7 years old, completely black. Where she came from here – it is unclear, there was not even a guard house nearby. Apparently, it was her territory, and here someone stuck without permission and fell asleep... I didn’t take the film, quietly covered the dog with it. She, without opening her eyes, licked my hand, turned over to the other side and shrugged again.
After 15-20 minutes, ZIL arrived at the stop where I was sitting. Uncle Cole seemed very surprised when he saw me here this morning: “Where are you from? Why does your dog smell? Have you hugged the dogs? The entire cabin will disappear.” While I was throwing my backpack into the kung, and then as we were leaving the city, I was telling Uncle Cole about my overnight stays under the fence. He didn’t believe it, but I was wet after the rain and smelled like a black dog. Until the end of the day we went south, we talked, he remembered his expeditions, I remembered my own, but no-no, and he smelled me. Closer to the evening, before overnight, he found some advanced refuelling, where he forced me to stretch the storm in the shower complex. Before sleeping he asked, “So what kind of dog did you say was?” Black, I say, I don’t know the breed, not the special. “And the truth is black,” he thoughtfully said, twisting his black hair between his fingers, “...he has fallen from your storm.” Then he looked at me and said, “You know, I specifically scheduled a meeting at that stop because I hoped you would be late and I would go by myself. I don’t like to ride, I’m used to it. And you still had time, and even with the dog almost born. We walked, we talked, and I thought about the dog. You see, you’re not a bad guy if even the dog believes you. I know, my whole life has passed with dogs.”
We arrived safely in Crimea. Later on, Uncle Coley and I rarely crossed, although it was warm, and 10 years later it was not. And I still remember the dog who believed me and the conclusion made by the old driver. I still try to conform to him.