Galina Petrovna's Three-Legged Dog Story

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In the 1990s, there was a three-legged dog called Boroda, who wore no collar and lived in Azov with an old Russian lady who worked hard on her dacha.

However, everything else in this book, while inspired by my memories of the people and geography of Russia, is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such.

‘Hey! Goryoun Tigranovich! Can you hear me?’

A warm brown hand slapped on the door once more, its force rattling the hinges this time.

‘He’s dead, I tell you! He’s probably been eaten by the cats by now. Four of them he’s got, you know. Four fluffy white cats! Who needs four fluffy white cats? White? Ridiculous!’

‘Babushka, can you hear any cats mewing?’

The two ladies, one indescribably old and striated and the other only mildly so, waited silently for a moment outside the apartment door, listening intently. Tiny Baba Krychkova bent slightly to put her ear to the keyhole, closed her eyes and sucked in her cheeks.

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