Your True Tales
August 2008 - Page 12
The Loyal Dog
by Slava V.
This has been happening since I temporarily moved to St. Petersburg last year, in July, for work experience. July is the time of white nights in St. Peters, so most people tend to stay up late until about 1 a.m. I rented a small house near a railway station. Even though many people come through, it is usually quiet, since most of them are on foot or bicycle. In the kitchen I have huge windows, which overlook the drive and little garden (just a patch of grass mainly, and a bench). I always keep the gates on padlock, although they are so small that pretty much anyone can climb over.
One of these nights, at about half past midnight, after a rather tiring workday, I was in the kitchen making myself tea. I turned on the kettle and walked over to the window to wait. I was surprised to see an Alsatian dog sitting near the gate. A dog that size could have easily jumped over the gate, so initially I thought it was just a stray looking for food. I got some ham from the fridge on a plate and went out. It was surprisingly chilly outside, even though it had been a relatively hot day. I did not come too close, so I just set down the plate some distance away from the dog. It did not move or turn around to look.
Then, as I tried to approach it, I noticed that it was ashen, almost wispy -- not completely solid. I neared my hand to touch it, but it just faded into the air, blended with the grey colour of the fence. I was dumbfounded, but somehow not scared. It seemed friendly.
The dog appeared over and over for a week. It did not even seem to mind when I was out sitting on the bench. It sat there for a period of time, sometimes during the night, when the dog seemed white almost. It then disappeared for about a week. But the week after, on Tuesday, it came back. Same spot, same position.
I have a very kindly old couple as neighbours, and once, when they invited me around for tea, I told them about the dog. The lady said, "Ah, you mean Vasya. The German Alsatian. Yes, I know about him. He belonged to a soldier who died in World War 2. After the soldier left, he'd go up to the fence every day, waiting for his master. I see him at the railway station sometimes, too, sitting and waiting. Don't you be afraid of him. Maybe Vasya and his master haven't found each other yet in heaven. When they do, I think he will go. I will miss him. He's such a friendly dog, but he will feel better with his master. Dogs are loyal animals. They grow very attached to their owners."
And, truly, in mid-September, the dog stopped appearing. I first thought he had gone to the station, since he often disappeared for a week and then came back to my drive. However, by December he had still not returned. I believe, truly, he is now with his master in heaven.
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