Dogs' Happiness Page #2

"Dogs' Happiness" is a poignant novella by Aleksandr Kuprin that explores the simple yet profound joys of canine life. Through the eyes of a stray dog, the narrative delves into themes of loyalty, freedom, and the unfiltered happiness found in companionship and nature. Kuprin's vivid storytelling captures the essence of the bond between humans and dogs, while reflecting on broader existential themes. The tale is a celebration of the genuine joys of life, viewed through the lens of a creature who embodies unconditional love and innocence.

• Novel

								

cold sarcasm:

"I can satisfy your curiosity, young man. These gentlemen will make
their first stopping place at the slaughter-house."

"Where? Pardon me, please, I didn't catch the word," muttered Jack,
sitting down involuntarily, for his legs had suddenly begun to tremble.
"You were pleased to say--at the s-s ..."

"Yes, at the slaughter-house," repeated the poodle coldly, turning his
head away.

"Pardon me, but I don't quite understand.... Slaughter-house? ... What
kind of an institution is that? Won't you be so good as to explain?"

The poodle was silent. But as the greyhound and the terrier both joined
their petition to Jack's, the old poodle, who did not wish to appear
impolite in the presence of ladies, felt obliged to enter into certain
details.

"Well, you see mesdames, it is a sort of large courtyard surrounded
by a high fence with sharp points, where they shut in all dogs found
wandering in the streets. I've had the unhappiness to be taken there
three times already."

"I've never seen you!" was heard in a hoarse voice from the dark
corner. "And this is the seventh time I've been there."

There was no doubt that the voice from the dark corner belonged to
the violet-coloured dog. The company was shocked at the interruption
of their conversation by this rude person, and so pretended not to
hear the remark. But Bouton, with the cringing eagerness of an upstart
in society, cried out: "Please don't interfere in other people's
conversation unless you're asked," and then turned at once to the
important-looking mouse-coloured dog for approbation.

"I've been there three times," the poodle went on, "but my master has
always come and fetched me away again. I play in a circus, and you
understand that I am of some value. Well, in this unpleasant place they
have a collection of two or three hundred dogs...."

"But, tell me ... is there good society there?" asked the greyhound
affectedly.

"Sometimes. They feed us very badly and give us little to eat.
Occasionally one of the dogs disappears, and then they give us a dinner
of ..."

In order to heighten the effect of his words, the poodle made a slight
pause, looked round on his audience, and then added with studied
indifference:

--"Of dog's flesh."

At these words the company was filled with terror and indignation.

"Devil take it ... what low-down scoundrelism!" exclaimed Jack.

"I shall faint ... I feel so ill," murmured the greyhound.

"That's dreadful ... dreadful ..." moaned the dachshund.

"I've always said that men were scoundrels," snarled the mouse-coloured
dog.

"What a strange death!" sighed Bouton.

But from the dark corner was heard once more the voice of the
violet-coloured dog. With gloomy and cynical sarcasm he said:

"The soup's not so bad, though--it's not at all bad, though, of course,
some ladies who are accustomed to eat chicken cutlets would find dog's
flesh a little too tough."

The poodle paid no attention to this rude remark, but went on:

"And afterwards I gathered from the manager's talk that our late
companion's skin had gone to make ladies' gloves. But ... prepare your
nerves, mesdames ... but, this is nothing.... In order to make the
skin softer and more smooth, it must be taken from the living animal."

Cries of despair broke in upon the poodle's speech.

"How inhuman!"

"What mean conduct!"

"No, that can't be true!"

"O Lord!"

"Murderers!"

"No, worse than murderers!"

After this outburst there was a strained and melancholy silence. Each
of them had a mental picture, a fearful foreboding of what it might be
to be skinned alive.

"Ladies and gentlemen, is there no way of getting all honourable dogs
free, once and for all, from their shameful slavery to mankind?" cried
Jack passionately.

"Be so good as to find a way," said the old poodle ironically.

The dogs all began to try and think of a way.

"Bite them all, and have an end of it!" said the big dog in his angry
bass.

"Yes, that's the way; we need a radical remedy," seconded the servile
Bouton. "In the end they'll be afraid of us."

"Yes, bite them all--that's a splendid idea," said the old poodle.
"But what's your opinion, dear sirs, about their long whips? No doubt
you're acquainted with them!"

"H'm." The dog coughed and cleared his throat.

"H'm," echoed Bouton.

"No, take my word for it, gentlemen, we cannot struggle against
men. I've lived in this world for some time, and I've not had a bad
life.... Take for example such simple things as kennels, whips, chains,
muzzles--things, I imagine, not unknown to any one of us. Let us
suppose that we dogs succeed in thinking out a plan which will free
us from these things. Will not man then arm himself with more perfect
instruments? There is no doubt that he will. Haven't you seen what
instruments of torture they make for one another? No, we must submit to
them, gentlemen, that's all about it. It's a law of Nature."

"Well, he's shown us his philosophy," whispered the dachshund in Jack's
ear. "I've no patience with these old folks and their teaching."

"You're quite right, mademoiselle," said Jack, gallantly wagging his
tail.

The mouse-coloured dog was looking very melancholy and snapping at the
flies. He drawled out in a whining tone:

"Eh, it's a dog's life!"

"And where is the justice of it all?"--the greyhound, who had been
silent up to this point, began to agitate herself--"You, Mr. Poodle,
pardon me, I haven't the honour of knowing your name."

"Arto, professor of equilibristics, at your service." The poodle bowed.

"Well, tell me, Mr. Professor, you have apparently had such great
experience, let alone your learning--tell me, where is the higher
justice of it all? Are human beings so much more worthy and better
than we are, that they are allowed to take advantage of so many cruel
privileges with impunity?"

"They are not any better or any more worthy than we are, dear young
lady, but they are stronger and wiser," answered Arto, with some heat.
"Oh, I know the morals of these two-legged animals very well.... In
the first place, they are greedy--greedier than any dog on earth. They
have so much bread and meat and water that all these monsters could be
satisfied and well-fed all their lives. But instead of sharing it out,
a tenth of them get all the provisions for life into their hands, and
not being able to devour it all themselves, they force the remaining
nine-tenths to go hungry. Now, tell me, is it possible that a well-fed
dog would not share a gnawed bone with his neighbour?"
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