We once lived on the outskirts of a small town, you can say almost in the village.
The situation was appropriate: a lot of green, and livelihood at least remove.
From time to time, a crown lived near our house: a large
A smart bird with stealing habits. He tore out of the balconies all sorts of little stuff, like pimples. But in measure.
Everyone got used to it over time. They called, of course, the Barbarian and began to feed. Although this was not a special need: Varya himself brilliantly hunted rats.

Once upon a time, a puppy appeared in our yard. of noble blood. Strong as such. Intelligent, fun and shameful. Quite quickly he grew up and became a general favorite: he plays with children, deals with strangers, masks his own tail.

And our dog joined with the frog. Although in the beginning he was spinning, raising, but then somehow softened and stuck to the orphan.

Together, they drank water from the same lochhan and fairly shared the rushed by the locals of мясцо.
Borka listened attentively to the crown when she told him something, and Varvara diligently pulled out of Borka the reptiles, confused in the wool.

Their friendship was observed with apparent indifference, but in fact with envy, by Belochka, the cat of Uncle Fedor, a war veteran, from the apartment on the first floor.

The Hunters of the Dormehbase arose, as always, unexpectedly. They usually went around at night. They appeared that morning. Someone was at work, the children at school, the elderly went to receive a pension.
Uncle Fedor shouted to the hunters, “Don’t dare, shit!” But no one listened to him. What can a legless veteran do?
The barbar arrived when it was all over, and the brigadier of the hunters, a healthy child with an eyelid in his ear, threw Borky’s body into a dirty van.

The next day, someone from the neighbors came to the base and brought Bork from there.
He was buried in the forest.

The crown has been sleeping since then. She virtually did not take the food left by the neighbors, but continued to hunt rats with resentment.

On the day the hunters appeared in our yard again, the crown was sitting on the branch.
Apples and watched the process closely.
Out of the cabin came a brigadier. He smiled and, squeezing with a squeeze,
Go to White. But despite the fact that Uncle Fedor screamed that there was strength, she remained in place, as if hypnotized.

The brigadier did not rush to the White and stumbled.
However, it was not time to put her on the white.
At the moment when Lasso made the last pre-starter twist, something fast and black broke out of the apple branch, furiously whispering, with lightning. For another moment, the hunter began to plunge on the spot, holding his ear, shouting non-member-splitting curse. The Barbarian described the circle of honor and sat on the top of the apple tree.
From her flaming beak hanged half her ear with a golden eyelid.

And Warka did not hunt rats anymore. So, sometimes off the window a branch of mimosis will be folded, it will be placed on a small hill that is in the forest, near our outskirts, and it will be laid on the ground, having previously placed the leaves.
Sitting and listening. Would it suddenly come from somewhere the stinking Borkin Lai?