spoke. He absolutely loved the food and drink. He isn't just any old dog. So he'll die, will he — because he had dinner with me, because he didn't, with the greatest respect, fancy the rubbish you people give him, diet food, to be eaten only at certain times, never in the dining room and never from your hand — though the only real food is what he takes from your hand, not from a bowl? I'm the one who's killing him, the one who brings him up, talks to him, teaches him right and wrong." She was speaking with deadly seriousness, like a teacher whose most sacred feelings had been wounded. "Or perhaps it was you who taught him to sit, and stand up, and run and fetch a ball, and say thank you. All you two do is hide yourselves away at home like a pair of statues. You don't even talk to each other, you bang away on your typewriters in separate rooms. Well, you keep Viola, then. You'll see how far you get."
The statement over — with matters of importance Emerence didn't say things, she made an announcement — she turned on her heel and left. Viola collapsed and began to snore. He was so drunk he didn't even notice that he'd been abandoned.
The problems didn't begin immediately, only the next morning, when Emerence failed to come for him. She had always served him his breakfast, given him his walk and then taken him away with her. He controlled himself and made no messes, but from six-fifteen he was whining so loudly I was forced to get up. It was a while before I realised there was no point in waiting for Emerence. She was like Jehovah: she punished for generations.
The whole shameful scene finally came to a head outside her flat, when the dog insisted on going in, as he did every morning. I had never understood why it was better for him to be shut up with her than at home with me, where he had so much more room to flop around in. Anyway, when he realised that hauling on the leash was getting him nowhere he became mutinous, tugged furiously and then bounded along, with me in tow. He was a strong dog, I a fearful pedestrian on an icy street. Mounds of snow covered the pavement, each a potential hazard. I was terrified of falling and breaking something, but I couldn't let go in case he ran under a car.
That morning I was given a lesson in where the two of them went for their walk. Viola ran me through Emerence's district. Half-blinded by the falling snow and gasping for breath, with Viola setting the pace, I was hauled to each of the eleven houses where she cleaned, hurtling from one to the next in a mindless Peer Gynt dash. Finally he tugged so hard he managed to pull me over. But we had reached his destination. We'd found the person he was looking for. Emerence was standing with her back to us, so he jumped up at her from behind, nearly knocking her over as well. However she was strong — ten times stronger than I have ever been. She turned, saw me kneeling there in the snow, and instantly realised what had happened. First she yanked the dog firmly by the stray end of the leash; then, whenever he started to whine, she hit him. I hauled myself to my feet, feeling thoroughly sorry for the animal.
"Sit, you wicked creature," she shouted, as if to another person. "This is not the way to behave, you scoundrel." Viola stared at her in amazement. Emerence looked him in the eye, like a lion tamer. "If you want your mistress to let you come again you will have to promise her that you won't get drunk, because your mistress is right, only she didn't stop to think that nobody celebrates my birthday, or that you are the only one who knows when it is, because you're the only one I've told. I haven't told my brother Józsi's boy, or Sutu, or Adélka, or Polett, and the Lieutenant Colonel has forgotten when it is. But that's not how we behave when we sober up — like hooligans. Instead, we ask permission. Now get up, Viola!"
So far the dog had been crouching on his stomach, weeping. He hadn't moved a muscle during the beating, or made
The statement over — with matters of importance Emerence didn't say things, she made an announcement — she turned on her heel and left. Viola collapsed and began to snore. He was so drunk he didn't even notice that he'd been abandoned.
The problems didn't begin immediately, only the next morning, when Emerence failed to come for him. She had always served him his breakfast, given him his walk and then taken him away with her. He controlled himself and made no messes, but from six-fifteen he was whining so loudly I was forced to get up. It was a while before I realised there was no point in waiting for Emerence. She was like Jehovah: she punished for generations.
The whole shameful scene finally came to a head outside her flat, when the dog insisted on going in, as he did every morning. I had never understood why it was better for him to be shut up with her than at home with me, where he had so much more room to flop around in. Anyway, when he realised that hauling on the leash was getting him nowhere he became mutinous, tugged furiously and then bounded along, with me in tow. He was a strong dog, I a fearful pedestrian on an icy street. Mounds of snow covered the pavement, each a potential hazard. I was terrified of falling and breaking something, but I couldn't let go in case he ran under a car.
That morning I was given a lesson in where the two of them went for their walk. Viola ran me through Emerence's district. Half-blinded by the falling snow and gasping for breath, with Viola setting the pace, I was hauled to each of the eleven houses where she cleaned, hurtling from one to the next in a mindless Peer Gynt dash. Finally he tugged so hard he managed to pull me over. But we had reached his destination. We'd found the person he was looking for. Emerence was standing with her back to us, so he jumped up at her from behind, nearly knocking her over as well. However she was strong — ten times stronger than I have ever been. She turned, saw me kneeling there in the snow, and instantly realised what had happened. First she yanked the dog firmly by the stray end of the leash; then, whenever he started to whine, she hit him. I hauled myself to my feet, feeling thoroughly sorry for the animal.
"Sit, you wicked creature," she shouted, as if to another person. "This is not the way to behave, you scoundrel." Viola stared at her in amazement. Emerence looked him in the eye, like a lion tamer. "If you want your mistress to let you come again you will have to promise her that you won't get drunk, because your mistress is right, only she didn't stop to think that nobody celebrates my birthday, or that you are the only one who knows when it is, because you're the only one I've told. I haven't told my brother Józsi's boy, or Sutu, or Adélka, or Polett, and the Lieutenant Colonel has forgotten when it is. But that's not how we behave when we sober up — like hooligans. Instead, we ask permission. Now get up, Viola!"
So far the dog had been crouching on his stomach, weeping. He hadn't moved a muscle during the beating, or made
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