Beggar

Krakow looked beautiful at this time of year. The city was bathed in sunlight, giving it a strange, proud character. Every tenement house seemed larger, more beautiful, somehow majestic. People walking through the Planty Park smiled exceptionally often, as if without reason. The Krakow autumn filled everything and everyone with optimism: buildings, people, and even animals. And most interestingly, it all formed a single whole, and it was impossible to imagine a single alleyway not traversed by the city's remarkably slow and carefree citizens. In short, all of Krakow was brimming with smiles, joyful stagnation, and above all, laziness. Yes, the city was lazy...

Only one thing didn't fit this image, this tribute to laziness and free joy. It was an old beggar. Perhaps the only man who didn't wear a smile during this beautiful start to the day. He was sitting, as usual, under the steps of St. Anne's Church, a practice he had been practicing for a good dozen years. His name was Joachim.

Joachim had carried at least 70 winters on his stooped neck. His life could be clearly read from his face, which was crisscrossed with deep wrinkles and furrows. It was clear that this life was neither easy nor pleasant. The poor man's only companion in his misery was a shaggy dog, as old (counting "dog-wise," of course) as his owner, with a banal name. His name was Burek, just an average mutt, like most of the "burek" breed, stupid and happy about who knows what.

The beggar sat on an old, torn blanket, under which he had laid a "foundation" consisting of several layers of newspapers and cardboard. He wore a coat that had long since lost its original color, as well as its former shape, and now shone as if someone had passionately smeared it with a stick of grease. The rest of his attire was no different; the bald head of good-natured Joachim was protected from the rain by a hat that Burek had removed its brim some time ago. The lower half of the body was covered by striped, frayed trousers, one leg shorter, of course. On the feet were military boots, likely dating back to the September Campaign. They were also very hungry, and the soles of their mouths gaped enormously, which Joachim tried to stop with pieces of string and a thong.

The beggar's daily routine was steadfastly simple and based on the "saint's" system. When the sacristan opened the church for morning Mass, it signaled to Joachim that it was time to "unwind," and the moment that same worthy man closed the temple gates, Joachim began to "unwind." Brilliant in its simplicity, wasn't it? Joachim's daily routine consisted of begging, eating two meals (if there was anything to eat), and engaging in activities that no human being could avoid. In this he was again helped by the sexton, who provided the beggar with a toilet, which was probably the only one in the area.

Joachim's companion, Burek, showed a distinct reluctance to be an original dog and, like any common mutt, engaged in wild daily antics. From barking at every overweight passerby, to chasing passing cats, to compulsively urinating on the bagel cart pushed to the church each morning by Mrs. Janina, a woman who was exceptionally insensitive and unkind to everyone except her customers.

Why was Joachim sad? And more interestingly, why was Burek sad? The atmosphere didn't spread, even though that morning Joachim had been granted the incredible honor of receiving yesterday's bagel from Mrs. Janina. Something was troubling these two, something "hanging over their heads."

Joachim seemed to be feeling unwell, and the mutt, despite his average appearance, sensed it and was unusually moody. The beggar wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and lay down on his makeshift bed. People passed by, and although they saw Joachim and dropped a considerable amount of money into his box for that day of the week, they were really doing it to avoid spoiling the sweet atmosphere surrounding everyone. They didn't notice that something was wrong with the poor man, that a grimace of pain crossed his face. One, Burek, was showing increasing distress in his canine way. He circled his master, then crouched beside him again, whining softly, and nudging Joachim's face with his muzzle.

The bells began to ring for the Angelus, as Joachim seemed to feel better. He sat up and leaned back against the wall. Burek perked up at the sight, barking energetically and wagging his tail. He even flew off and, as usual, watered the bagel stand, for which Mrs. Janina cursed him in every way she knew. The old beggar remained where he was for a long time, carefully surveying the surroundings, as if he wanted to memorize everything that had surrounded him for so many years.

The bells were ringing again; it was half past five, and Joachim, with a strange smile, lay down again. Burek had gone after a cat and was nowhere to be seen or heard, while Mrs. Janina had already begun to wind up her little business. As she left, she casually said, "See you tomorrow, Joachim."

She didn't realize that the beggar was slowly heading off to his well-deserved, eternal rest, and that Joachim wouldn't be back tomorrow. A short time passed, and the old man was already knocking on the gates of paradise. He didn't have to wait long for it to be opened, for St. Peter, having long known the plight of this little soul, had been waiting impatiently for him. Joachim received a new, white shirt and trousers of the same color, and most importantly, with straight legs.

He was completely ready to enter the gates of heaven when he remembered that that spendthrift, Burek, had remained on earth. He began to worry about the pigeon. What would that little dog do without him? But St. Peter had a solution for that too.

Burek flew back from his escapade and sensed that something was wrong again. He flew over to the fallen beggar and began sniffing him, licking his face persistently. The sad truth dawned on the dog after a moment, and with grief, the faithful dog's heart broke. He lay down next to his master and lifelong companion, and the poor thing died. Joachim was already waiting for him, and soon the dog, together with his master, entered the gates of paradise.

Such was the end of that beautiful Krakow day. It was a pity for the poor churchgoer, who, upon discovering the two bodies the next morning, was deeply troubled and saddened. It was also a pity for the angels in heaven, who have had no peace since that day, because Burek, lacking cats, chases them like a fool, trying to pluck even a single feather from one of their wings. And to the scandal of all heaven, he derives incredible satisfaction from this practice, in his mongrel way...