I had an interesting incident yesterday.

For work, I had to visit one production base.

I usually make a pass, go through the shlagbaum and take a confident walk toward the warehouses. The day is good, the sun shines, a light frost — and nothing in all the white light can ruin my elevated mood, I think naively. and ah.

I hear a loud cry approaching, I turn around and see a huge moose monster carrying on me. It flies out, therefore, from the corner and, of course, goes straight to me with a wild whirlwind. I, like a true coward, clamp my back to the fence and catch a spade, pleasing at the same time that there is at least some weapon. The dog, in the meantime, is already jumping around me, laughing so much that he puts it in my ears, simultaneously switching to a strange whisper. Copying this on the fact that the dog is apparently very hungry and angry that the victim is resisting, I continue to blow off with a spade. The dog is not going to retreat, but the cry for help was heard and the guard tried to recall the dog.

The Mukhtar!

Muthar does not shrink.

“Muhtar, your mother,” the guard is angry.

Zero of attention. Pulling and cuddling me, the dog does not want to retreat. Something is clicking in my head. The Mukhtar. The Mukhtar? ? to

The Mukhtar? I call him and let go. The dog lies on his stomach, lulls, slips to me and drops my boots to death, seeing the snow with his tail.

What is this? The watchman is offended by his shoulder, clearly disappointed in the dog’s security capabilities.

An old friend, I explained.

I remember how five years ago we picked up a small puppy at a oil field. It was winter, and the puppy only miraculously survived the fierce frost. We brought him into a barrel, drank him, fed him, and left him at home until he recovered. For two months he lived with us on the balcony, and when he recovered, he began to follow me like a bound. He did not leave in peace for a second, and for his devotion he was nicknamed Muhtar. When it was time to leave, the puppy was handed over to the drilling brigade, which in turn left it on the base.

So we met an old friend who knew me even after a long five years. I just regret that you had to leave Mukhara then, but you won’t write anything here.