Every evening at half past six, Leia was already sitting by the front door. No one had taught her to do this. Somehow, the four-month-old Labrador puppy just knew by her own inner clock: soon the elevator would buzz, the lock would click, and Katya would arrive—carrying the scent of chrysanthemums and autumn drizzle.
But that Tuesday, no one was waiting by the door.
On Leia’s little rug sat a sack of potatoes. Heavy, covered in dried soil, tied with blue twine. On the coat hook hung a red leash with a bell, and beneath the radiator lay a rubber duck, well-chewed on one side.
«Leia?» Katya froze with one boot in her hand. «Sweetheart, where are you?»
A scent of glue drifted from the kitchen. Valeriy Pavlovich was sitting at the table, covered with newspaper, pressing the sole of a winter boot with a cutting board as firmly as he could. His mother-in-law, Lidiya Pylypivna, stood by the sink with her back to the door, scrubbing a plate that had long since been dry.
«Valeriy Pavlovich, where’s Leia?»
Her father-in-law didn’t answer right away. He set his boot on the newspaper, examined the seam, and squinted.
«Leia’s gone. I gave her away.»
«What do you mean… you gave her away?»
«Just like that. To a good home, don’t worry. To Stepan Kharitonovych, I go fishing with him every summer. He’s got a house in the village, a big yard, grandkids come for vacation. She’ll have plenty of space to run and be free there—not stuck in our three rooms on the fifth floor.»
He lifted the boot and showed it to Katya, almost as proof.
«Look. They’re new. I paid eighteen hundred hryvnias for them at the market, and haven’t even worn them a month. The other day it was the slippers, yesterday the antenna cable, now this. I told you all week: you need to train her. Did I say it or not?»
«You did,» Katya answered quietly. «But she’s just a baby. She’s teething…»
«Well, let her teeth on Stepan’s yard, then. He even sent over a sack of his own potatoes—not from the store. Enough to last the whole winter.»
Lidiya Pylypivna finally set the plate on the drying rack.
«Valera, I told you: wait for the kids, talk to them first…»
«Lida, don’t start. I grew up in the village—I know. Dogs in apartments are bad for everyone.»
* * *
Katya walked to her room and sat on the bed, still wearing her coat. On the pillow, she saw a little bit of fur. Light, short, and thinner than a thread.
She had wanted a dog for as long as she could remember. As a child, whenever she asked, her mother always replied the same: “No pets in the apartment, period.” When Katya was eight, she brought home a kitten from the hallway, but that evening, holding back tears, she returned it to the stairwell window ledge. Later came dorm life, then rented rooms with advertisements boldly marked «no pets allowed.»
But this September, when Katya turned thirty, Yura came home with a box poked with holes in the lid. Tied with a ribbon, just like a cake. Katya lifted the lid, and inside, blinking sleepily, was something warm, round, and as if sewn from velvet.
«You’ve waited so many years,» Yura said then, hugging her from behind. «You don’t have to wait anymore.»
They chose her name together, sitting on the floor among torn wrapping paper. That first evening, Leia fell asleep on Katya’s slippers and whimpered softly in her dreams, as if she was still searching for her mother.
My father-in-law just grunted, ‘Well, well. We’ll see how long you’ll last.’ Lidiya Pylypivna would secretly slip pieces of boiled chicken to the puppy, and whenever Katya was running late at the flower shop, she would take Leia outside herself and patiently stand under the maple tree while the dog sniffed every leaf.
* * *
Yura came home at nine. He worked as an electrician at the water utility, and this fall things kept breaking down there, so he would get home late and was always quiet.
Katya heard him taking off his shoes in the hallway, heard him catch his foot on the sack and mutter something under his breath. Then she heard the father-in-law’s voice from the kitchen, long and convincing. After that, everything went silent.
When Yura peeked into the room, Katya was already packing things into her gym bag.
‘Katya… What’s going on?’
‘I’m going to my mom’s for a few days. I need to be alone.’
‘Because of the dog?’
She turned around. Yura stood in the doorway, tired, still in his work jacket with the water utility’s emblem, looking at the bag like he didn’t know what to do with it.
‘Listen,’ he rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Dad didn’t mean any harm. He wanted what was best. Maybe she really will be better off there? Yard, fresh air… Even I sometimes thought we acted too soon. She chews everything up, and we’re both out all day.’
Katya just looked at him in silence.
‘Do you remember what you said when you brought her home?’ she finally asked.
Yura looked away.
‘No more waiting,’ Katya answered for him. ‘But turns out, we do have to wait. I just don’t even know what for anymore.’
She zipped up her bag and stepped into the hallway. Took the red leash off the hook. Bent down and fished the chewed-up duck from under the radiator. She didn’t know why. She just couldn’t leave them behind.
Yura watched her standing in the middle of the hallway with the rubber toy in her hands, squeezing it so it gave a faint squeak. Whenever it squeaked, Leia would always come running from anywhere in the apartment, paws sliding on the laminate.
This time, no one came running.
Yura turned and walked back to the kitchen.
‘Dad, where does Stepan Kharitonovich live?’
Valeriy Pavlovych pulled himself away from the evening news.
‘Why do you need to know?’
‘Because you gave away a dog that wasn’t yours. You gave away my gift to Katya. And you didn’t even call me or her.’
‘Yura, I explained it all to you…’
‘You did. Now get dressed. We’ll go together, and you’ll tell Stepan Kharitonovich everything yourself.’
‘At this hour?’ The father-in-law shot up from his stool. ‘Twenty-five kilometers in this weather? Go tomorrow. Nothing will happen to her overnight.’
‘Dad,’ Yura spoke quietly, and the kitchen grew even quieter. ‘I’m thirty-three years old and I’ve never spoken a harsh word to you. Don’t make me start now. Get dressed.’
Valeriy Pavlovych opened his mouth to reply, but Lidiya Pylypivna came over to him. Silently, she took his coat from the rack and handed it to her husband.
‘Go, Valera,’ she said. ‘For forty years I’ve never argued with you. But today I will: go.’
In the hallway, Yura grabbed the sack off Leia’s mat and took it to the elevator.
‘And what’s the potato for?’ his father grumbled.
‘You’ll give it back.’
* * *
They drove on in silence. The windshield wipers chased away the fine drizzle, while wet maple leaves swirled in the headlights. On either side of the road stretched dark fields dotted with an occasional light. Yura drove slowly and carefully. Valeriy Pavlovych sat beside him with his hands folded on his knees, staring straight ahead. Katya sat in the back, twirling the leash around her finger.
In the village, the air was filled with the smell of chimney smoke and damp leaves. By the house with the tall walnut tree behind the fence, Yura turned off the engine. A light flickered on above the porch, and Stepan Kharitonovych appeared at the doorstep, draping a sheepskin coat over his shoulders and wearing rubber boots, flashlight in hand.
«Valeriy? What brings you here in the middle of the night? Did something happen?»
The father-in-law climbed out of the car, stood there awkwardly and hesitated. Katya had never seen him unsure of what to say before.
«Stepan… It’s like this. The dog wasn’t mine. She belonged to my daughter-in-law. My son gave her the puppy for her birthday. And I… I acted too quickly, that’s all.»
Stepan Kharitonovych turned his flashlight beam onto Katya, then onto Yura, and suddenly sighed, as if he had been expecting something like this for a while.
«All evening I was wracking my brain—what’s wrong with her? I settled her in the summer kitchen where it’s warm, fired up the stove, spread out my old jacket. Gave her some porridge with meat, sliced some sausage. She wouldn’t eat. Just sat by the door, staring at it for hours. I even called my grandson to brag that the puppy would be waiting for him on Saturday. But you see, she was waiting for her own people.»
He walked across the yard to a small annex and opened the door.
Leya was sitting right on the threshold. Small and light-colored, with her tail drooping. When she saw Katya, she seemed not to believe it for a moment. Then suddenly, a sound burst from her, thin and broken, half a whimper, half a laugh, and Stepan Kharitonovych turned away, fishing in his coat pocket for a long time.
Leya darted forward, tripped over her own paws, tumbled, got up, then hurled herself straight into Katya’s lap. Katya dropped down onto the wet porch boards, and the puppy burrowed under her jacket, twisting and nudging her cold nose into Katya’s neck, cheeks, and palms. Her tail wagged so hard that her whole little body trembled.
«Easy now, little one,» whispered Katya. «I’m here. I’ve come. It’s all right, it’s all right…»
Yura crouched beside her and placed his palm on Leya’s back. Then, without looking at his wife, he said:
«I’m sorry. I should have taken your side from the beginning.»
Katya said nothing. She just leaned her shoulder against his.
Meanwhile, Valeriy Pavlovych quietly brought a sack from the car and set it down by Stepan’s porch.
«Take it, Stepan. What I did wasn’t right.»
«Oh, leave that potato,» Stepan Kharitonovych waved him off. «My cellar is already full to the brim. Just help me tar the boat in spring instead. I’ll explain everything to my grandson. At the far end of the village, Halya’s dog just had a litter of puppies. I’ll go look tomorrow.»
«No,» his father-in-law shook his head stubbornly. «What’s yours is yours.»
And he headed back to the car, not looking back.
* * *
On the way back, Leya rode on Katya’s lap, wrapped in her scarf. At first she trembled at every turn and lifted her head, checking if Katya was still there. Then she grew still and began to snuffle softly.
About halfway there, the puppy woke up, stood on its hind legs and curiously sniffed Valeriy Pavlovych’s shoulder. He froze. Katya was about to take Leia back, but without turning around, he raised his hand and gently scratched her under the chin with one finger.
«I had a dog when I was a kid,» he suddenly said. His voice was muffled, almost unrecognizable. «Bim. Just an ordinary, shaggy, country dog. My father gave him away to people in the neighboring village because he would chase our neighbor’s chicks. I was nine. For a whole week, every day I would run there—six kilometers each way. I’d sit under their fence, and he’d stick his nose through a little gap to see me. Eventually my father said, ‘Enough. Don’t disgrace me in front of the whole village.’ So I stopped.»
He fell silent.
«I thought I’d forgotten all about it. But today at half past six, Lida told me, ‘She’s always sitting by the door at this time, waiting for Katya.’ I looked at the doormat, and there was my potato… And it hit me so hard, I felt like running out of the house. But I couldn’t say anything. My pride wouldn’t let me.»
Yura didn’t say anything, he just turned up the heat in the car.
«Forgive me, Katya,» Valeriy Pavlovych finally said, staring into the dark window. «I acted poorly. Treated someone else’s things like my own. And those shoes… Let them go, those shoes.»
«I’ll pay you back for them,» Katya said softly.
«No need. It’s my fault for leaving them in the hallway.»
* * *
At home, Lidiya Pylypivna was waiting for them. There was steaming borscht on the stove, and Leia’s doormat, freshly washed and still a bit damp, was already back at the door. Beside it stood a bowl of porridge, with some boiled meat crumbled into it—mother-in-law couldn’t resist.
The next Saturday, Valeriy Pavlovych went to the market by himself. He came back with a shoe cabinet with doors, two chew bones from the pet shop, and a bright rubber ball. He assembled the cabinet that evening, placed the bones on Leia’s mat, and spent a long time turning the ball in his hands, as if not sure what to do with it.
«To keep the shoes safe,» he explained, not looking at anyone.
And starting Monday at seven in the morning, when Katya was getting ready for work, her father-in-law was already standing in the hallway with his jacket on.
«Give me the leash. You and Yura don’t have time, and I don’t sleep anyway.»
Within a week, he’d taught Leia to sit and give a paw on command. He bragged about it to the neighbors in front of the building like a grandchild had brought home their first perfect grade. When Katya scheduled Leia for a check-up at the vet clinic, Valeriy Pavlovych insisted on coming along, and later that evening he retold Lidiya Pylypivna how the doctor had called the dog «a very smart girl.»
Now every evening at half past six, there were two waiting by the door. Leia on her mat, impatiently tapping her tail, and Valeriy Pavlovych on the stool beside her, acting as if he was just there because the radio sounded better in the hallway.
When the lock clicked, Leia was always the first to dash to Katya. Then, a little awkwardly, her father-in-law would get up second.
«At last!» he would grumble, taking the heavy bag from his daughter-in-law. «We’ve been sitting here waiting for you.»
