Mr. Rysiek's Dog.

One August evening, Ula and I went for a walk. We did this so often, so what was so special about this evening that it deserved a story of its own? The evening promised to be ordinary, but it wasn't, and it stayed with us for a long time, especially for poor Ula.

But before I tell you about the walk itself, a brief introduction is necessary. Ula and I love dogs, very much. Each of us considers our dog a paragon of canine perfection and loves them more than anything; we can't imagine life without them. We often take them with us on our walks. Our town is located in a picturesque valley surrounded by forests, so there are plenty of walking trails. Dogs can let off steam. Dog love is common in our town. Almost every home has a dog, whether it's the leashed Burek or the couch potato Tofik, each equally loved by its owner. Ula's uncle, Mr. Rysiek, is also a dog lover. He is a respected businessman, owner of several shops, both in our town and the surrounding area. He is single and loves his dog, Reks, above all else. He is a dog with an interesting, if sad, past. Mr. Rysiek adopted him several years ago during one of his trips to his shops. While stopping in the woods to stretch his legs, he heard a loud howl coming from a nearby grove. Mr. Rysiek found the abandoned, starving, and freezing dog tied to a tree. He immediately fell in love with him and undoubtedly saved Reks from starvation or being torn apart by wolves.

Reks was a medium-sized German Shepherd mix of an unspecified breed and must have been treated very poorly by his previous owner. The vet who examined him told Mr. Rysiek that the dog had been beaten and starved, which had taken a toll on his psyche. It was true. Reks was afraid of loud people; if anyone got too close, he tucked his tail and hid behind Mr. Rysiek. He only allowed him to pet him, and only with him did he feel safe.

It must be admitted that they were a harmonious pair. Two loners who avoided people. Mr. Rysiek always took Reks with him, and the dog quickly acclimated to car travel. Uncle Uli only had to open the door of his car, and Reks would be lying in the backseat on his favorite plaid blanket. This way, they traveled all over the neighborhood. Reks was a favorite of all Mr. Rysiek's employees. He was always given bones and other dog treats, and Mr. Rysiek distributed these delicacies in reasonable amounts, and Reks quickly gained weight and looked even more like a German Shepherd. And so the friendship continued. Although time passed, Reks was still afraid of people and noise, but he was more trusting than at first.

Sometimes, Mr. Rysiek had to part with Reks. He did so reluctantly and only in exceptional cases, when he absolutely had to. Ula then took care of Reks. She had to strictly follow a few rules. First, never let Reks off leash, and second, stay away from the sawmill, where there was a lot of noise that could scare him. These rules had their reasons. Mr. Rysiek didn't keep Reks on leash; they simply walked around the neighborhood, heel to heel. They especially enjoyed going to the hill overlooking the entire town. Mr. Rysiek would pull out his pocketknife and whittle sticks, and Reks would sit beside him and look around, spending as much time there as they could. One time, returning from a walk, off leash as usual, Reks was walking alongside his owner when a passing car's silencer went off. The dog became very frightened and ran away, disappearing from Mr. Rysiek's sight. Half the town was looking for him, and he wasn't found until evening, when an exhausted and distraught Mr. Rysiek returned home. It turned out that Reks had run into the house and hidden under the stairs. From then on, he always walked on a leash, just in case.

Ula followed these rules. She liked Reks, and she felt sorry for the little dog, who was always afraid of something. This wasn't the life of a typical carefree dog, like the rest of the canine world. Our dogs spent all day lounging in the gardens, chasing cats and birds, and wandering with us through the woods. Reks didn't. He always walked with Mr. Rysiek on a leash up the hill or went with him to take care of some business.

This time, Mr. Rysiek couldn't take Reks. His car broke down, and he had to take the train to his shops. It's always crowded and noisy there, so, not wanting to expose Reks to unnecessary stress, he left him in Ula's care. He was supposed to return in a few days and pick up the longing Reks. As always when he had to leave him. In the mornings, he would bring the dog to Ula's house, greet his sister and Ula's mother, and do what he hated to do: leave Reks. He also always brought his favorite plaid blanket. Ula's mother would spread it out in the kitchen by the stove, where not many people were around, and Reks would obediently lie down and watch what happened. Several times a day, Ula would take him for walks, and so several days passed. Mr. Rysiek would appear, practically running from the train station to Ula's house to fetch his only friend. When he entered, Reks would jump out of bed and burst into joy, receive a gift from his owner, and together they would return home, where the celebration continued.

That day, as was our custom, we went for a walk with Ula. As always, our dogs were with us. Ula also took Reks with her. Our dogs knew each other well and enjoyed playing together on walks, so we gladly took them with us. They walked ahead or behind us; we paid no attention to them because we didn't have to supervise them. Even if they were briefly out of sight, they always returned as if nothing had happened. This time, we walked leisurely, our dogs frolicking freely, and poor Reks walked alongside Ula on a leash.

We chatted about various things, joked, and walked through our town toward the forest. Dusk was slowly falling, the streetlamps and shop windows spilling their honeyed light onto the streets. This was my favorite time of summer day; the world took on a slightly unreal quality, a bit like something out of a Hopper painting. Just empty streets, streetlamps, and empty buildings, waiting for someone to enter. We'd always walk for a few hours, letting the dogs burn off their energy, and we'd end the day pleasantly.

At the very end of our town was a gas station run by Helena and her husband. In the evenings, the station was illuminated by countless lights, intensified by neon signs and advertisements. Beyond, there was only the forest, a beautiful, old pine forest. The August wind swayed the treetops, pine cones and dead branches rustled underfoot; an unbroken peace reigned. The path we most enjoyed walking along branched off from the main road just beyond the gas station and led to a large clearing. Picnics and May Day celebrations were held there, sometimes even bonfires. There were several tables and benches made from tree trunks. We'd sit there and either chat or simply listen to the wind, watching the dogs play, in the dim light of a few lanterns placed around the clearing.

As we approached the gas station, Ula said she felt sorry for Reks.

"He's never felt like a real dog; he's always on a leash, he's always so scared, afraid of everything. I bet if I let him off the leash, he'd quickly get used to it, start running, and act like a real dog. You know what, I think I'll let him off as soon as we get into the forest. What do you think?

" "I don't know if that's a good idea, but what if he runs away? It's dark, it'll be hard to find him, and your uncle won't be happy.

" "But he won't run away; the forest is quiet and peaceful, and he probably won't be scared of anything there.

" "Ula, do what you want. Maybe you're right, he deserves something from life after all. Let him feel like a real dog," I said to Ula, because I agreed with her. After all, he was a dog; it was in his nature to wander through the forest and chase rabbits, but he was just walking on a leash and afraid of his own shadow. He needs to be taught to be a dog."

Entering the forest, Ula unclipped Reks's leash. The dog stopped, looked at her as if in surprise, but after a moment, he recovered, his ears fluttering, and slowly moved forward. He continued walking beside Ula, as if still on the leash, but then he stopped, sniffed a tree, and we continued walking, chatting. We slowly forgot about Reks; he was a few meters behind us. Ula said that for today, at least, he would live like a real dog. When we reached the clearing, Reks and our dogs had already formed a small pack, sniffing the same trees and giving the impression of having a great time together. As we sat on the table with our feet propped up on the bench, our dogs lay under the table, and Reks was catching up on his dog skills. He was particularly interested in the molehill, sniffing it, circling it, trying to dig it up, and finally giving up and lying down under the table too.

"See, one walk and he's already revived. I'll tell my uncle about it; maybe he won't be so sensitive about him anymore," Ula said with obvious pride in her voice, brushing strands of hair away from her face. A pleasant breeze was blowing, the trees rustled familiarly, and stars were visible in the cloudless sky. August was drawing to a close, but the air still held the scent of summer, characteristic of June and July evenings. The night was very pleasant, so we extended our walk and began returning just before midnight. The five of us walked slowly along the path, savoring the simplicity of our surroundings.

"It's hard to imagine that, beyond this beauty, there's still room in this world for such senselessness as war and evil," I said, pointing to the forest.

"Well, nature is one thing, and human behavior is something else entirely. We're so absorbed in our own affairs that we don't see the beauty of the world. And if that were the case, we wouldn't waste time on senseless wars." There's so much beauty to see in the world, Ula philosophized. And she was right.

"Well, you're right. We can't see the forest because the trees block it, so we cut them down and build cities. Then we lock ourselves in concrete and away from each other. Here, everyone knows everyone else, knows everything about each other, is interested in each other. We're such a small world. But in the city, everyone is their own world; in reality, others are unnecessary.

" "No, I don't think that's entirely true. I think... Where is Reks?!" Ula looked around nervously. And indeed, only our dogs were in my sight; there was no sign of Reks.

"He's probably left a bit behind. Let's backtrack a bit, and he'll be found. Come on, Ula. Don't panic," I said, turning back a bit faster; the dog could be scared somewhere in the forest and in the darkness. I had to get back quickly. "Just backtrack a bit, you'll see."

"I hope so, because if something happens to him, I'll probably kill myself," Ula said nervously.

"Calm down, nothing happened to him. He's sitting somewhere under a tree, waiting for us because he was lost. A few meters and he'll be there. Calm down." However, we backed up to the clearing and didn't find the dog.

"Wojtek, he's gone! What am I going to do now!? Oh God!" Ula screamed desperately.

"Please calm down, he has to be here somewhere." But in the dim light of the lantern in the clearing, I couldn't see anything that resembled the outline of a dog. The clearing was empty.

"But where? How could I have lost him? Why did I ever let him go? What a fool I am! If anything happened to him, it was all my fault! Reks! Reks! Reeeks!" Ula shouted louder and louder. "

Listen, maybe he ran home? Well, you let him go, he was running around, missed his owner, and then he ran home. You once said he escaped from your uncle, and then he ran home." Let's check there, although I'm sure we'll meet him on the way.

"But how about home? Surely we would have seen him pass us?

" "He could have walked sideways, through the bushes. We didn't notice because we were so lost in conversation, we'll definitely meet him on the way.

" "Okay, but if that's the case, it's even worse, because there's a road, cars are driving by and everything," Ula said, barely breathing. "Oh my God! Wojtek, I lost my uncle's dog! Now he'll kill me!" She was still despairing, tears welling in her eyes.

"Stop making up such stupid things, he ran home and that's it. He's definitely under the stairs. You'll see, we're going. No one's going to kill anyone. Calm down." I tried my best to calm her down, but it didn't help. She was completely shaken, breathing shallowly, and kept calling,

"Reeeks! Reeeks! Doggie, where are you? Reeeks! Reeeks!"

At the gas station, we asked the staff if they'd seen any dogs walking or running towards the city. Unfortunately, no one had seen the dog. On the way home, we looked into every nook and cranny, through every gate, but we couldn't find him. And worst of all, he wasn't there at Mr. Rysiek's house either. I started to worry.

"Listen, Ula, we'll take our dogs home and look for him again, we'll walk the whole route, and he'll be somewhere." Ula must not have heard me, because she said,

"I'll take the dog home and look for him. You go home.

" "Come on, I'll look with you. No problem.

" "Thanks, Wojtek, that's nice of you.

" "No problem ."

We led the dogs away and set off toward the forest, constantly calling Reks and searching for him with all our might in the darkness. The wind didn't seem so pleasant anymore. It was rather ominous now. It was night, quiet, the wind was blowing stronger, and the trees were rustling louder. By the time we reached the gas station, we were shouting at the top of our lungs:

"Reeeks! Reeeks! Where are you? Come here!" Come on! - But to no avail. As we were entering the forest path leading to the clearing, a man filling up his car at the gas station called out to us.

- Excuse me, I heard you calling the dog, right? - he asked.

"Yes, yes." Ula said happily. "A medium-sized mutt, similar to a German Shepherd. Have you seen him?

" "I'm sorry to say, yes. He's lying about 200 meters down the road, by the town sign. I'm sorry.

" "No!" Ula burst into tears. "Nooo! Wojtek, I killed the dog!

" "Calm down, wait here, I'll go check if it's Reks, maybe it's not him. Calm down."

"No, Wojtek, I'll go with you, I can't stand it. Let's go faster." Ula cried so hard she couldn't breathe.

It was my longest 200 meters. The whole way I kept telling Ula it definitely wasn't Reks, but I was sure it was him, unfortunately. And I felt sorry for her; I could only imagine what she was going through. Besides, I felt responsible; I agreed that letting him go was a good idea, then I started talking. We walked very quickly. Ula kept crying and repeating that it was her fault and that she'd killed him. Suddenly she screamed,

"It's him, he's there!" Finally, after three hours of endless searching, calling, looking out, and assuring ourselves that nothing had happened to Reks, we stood and stared at his body. The dog lay under the sign, on his side, looking as if he were sleeping, so peacefully. It was Reks. Ula was in tears, standing two meters from Reks, unable to bring herself to come closer. "God, I killed him. If I hadn't let him go, he would have lived. It's my fault!" She was hysterical; she couldn't breathe; her face was covered in tears. I hugged her to calm her. "Wojtek, please take him, I can't do this," she pleaded.

I thought then that when I picked him up, all his insides would fall out, and only then would Ula go crazy. But as I put my hands under Reks, I felt only a little blood. When I picked him up, his head fell unnaturally downwards, his neck was broken, and I felt a bone protruding from his front leg. The car had most likely hit him from the side, and the force of the impact had broken his neck and leg. He hadn't suffered, he died instantly. I moved my hand so the dog's head wasn't hanging

. I didn't want Ula to see this. She was in so much pain that she blamed herself all the way home that it was her fault she'd killed him. I tried to calm her down, but I couldn't. I carried Reks to Ula's house. Her mother also tried to calm her down, but only a tranquilizer helped. I placed Reks in the basement, where it was quite cool; he still looked as if he were sleeping. My arms were sore from carrying the dog, my shirt and hands were stained with blood, but I didn't care. I felt so sorry for Ula; neither she nor Reks deserved this, but it had happened, and there was nothing I could do about it. I came home, hugged my dog, took a shower and went to bed, terribly tired.

The morning promised a beautiful day. The blue sky was devoid of a single cloud, the air was crisp, as if birds were singing amidst the daily hustle and bustle. The warm air put everyone in a good mood. All of nature seemed to be in the opposite state to poor Ula, who was distraught, shattered, and grief-stricken by the loss of her uncle's dog, and besides, she was afraid of his reaction. The beauty of the world around her completely contradicted how she felt. Now she finally managed to fall asleep; through the open window, the sun's rays danced on her face and hair, but it didn't bother her. She slept like a log. She had no idea what a beautiful day it was going to be.

It was on such a morning that Mr. Rysiek returned from his journey. He got off the train and quickly crossed the tracks, shortening his way to the station building. He bought a newspaper at a newsstand and set off cheerfully. He was happy; his shops were now starting to generate profits. He rushed to Ula's house, wanting to see Reks as soon as possible; he certainly missed him.

It was 10 a.m. Ula was asleep when Mr. Rysiek arrived; her mother didn't wake her; she took the entire burden of informing her brother of the misfortune upon herself. As an older sister, Mrs. Irena knew how to talk to Mr. Rysiek. The conversation was brief; Ula only knew that much. Her mother wouldn't tell her more, and her uncle was afraid to ask. All we know is that after learning what had happened to poor Reks, he said, "Well, love can kill after all," which seems rather odd. He then took Reks's favorite blanket, wrapped him in it, and walked slowly home through our town for a last walk with his beloved dog. He held no grudge against Ula; he even apologized later for causing her trouble by caring for Reks during his absence.

A few days later, as usual, my mother was supposed to deliver Mr. Rysiek the jams and preserves he ordered from us. He said they were like drops of heaven melted into sweetness. The recipe was my grandmother's secret, which she passed down to my mother. It was our family specialty; we sold them and earned extra money. Sometimes, when my mother wasn't busy, I'd earn extra money delivering jams. I also filled in for my mother that day. I was happy because it was a good opportunity to talk to Mr. Rysiek. I wondered how he was handling what had happened.

I loaded the jars of jam onto the cart and, careful not to break them, set off along the cobblestones. I loved the sound the jars made when they banged together. When I was a little boy, I'd walk sometimes faster, sometimes slower, trying to shape the banging into a melody, but nothing ever came of it.

When I was almost there, I saw Mr. Rysiek sitting on a bench in front of his house, reading a book. He loved to read and did so often. He often lent me books I couldn't find in our town library. He brought back a few new ones from each of his trips. He said he preferred reading to watching TV because then he had time to think.

I went over and said hello. Mr. Rysiek invited me in and offered me tea and cookies. He asked how my mom was doing and if I had a good vacation. I replied that it would have been quite nice if it weren't for the whole Reks thing.

"Yes, it's a sad story," he said. "But, well, we can't help it; accidents happen to people, and apparently to animals too." He joked. "But I'm glad that at least before he died, he got a taste of freedom and carefreeness. That's good.

" "Yes, you should have seen him playing with the molehill, his face buried in the ground."

"You know, I think it's my fault this happened," he said, dipping a biscuit in his cup. "I was too afraid for him. It's because I found him abandoned, beaten, and frightened, and I fell in love with him on the spot. And it was because of that love that he died.

" "What do you mean, I don't quite understand. What do you mean?" I didn't know what Mr. Rysiek meant, how dying because of love is a rather positive feeling and nothing bad can come of it. I really didn't understand what he meant. "Love doesn't kill, after all."

"You see, love is different. Sometimes it gives you freedom, it gives you wings, then you feel wonderful. But if you love someone too much, or you want them all to yourself, which is essentially the same thing, it's like depriving them of the air, and then they suffocate. Such love is disturbing, restrictive. Regardless of the intentions." I must admit I still didn't understand, but Mr. Rysiek must have read it in my face because he continued. "Look, if I didn't love him so much, if I had more trust in him, I wouldn't have been so concerned about his safety, and he would still be alive. It occurred to me when I had to bury him..." He paused, running his hand along the edge of the table, his gaze fixed on a distant point outside the window. "When I took him from Ula, wrapped in his favorite blanket, I came here and I didn't know what to do next. I laid him on the couch, wondering what had happened." He got hit by a car because I treated him like something special and unique in the world, even though he was just an ordinary dog, and I kept him in a golden cage. I was afraid that what he'd been through would make me lose him. He'd get scared and run away. I should have freed him from his memories. The previous owner imprisoned him, and I should have set him free. But I didn't. If he'd known how to behave on the road, he'd be alive. Your dog knows how to behave because he's learned it, and every dog ​​in town knows it too. And Reks didn't know that because he was always walked on a leash because I was afraid I'd lose him. And I lost him because he had too little freedom, not too much. It's a small town, with little traffic. All the dogs hang out on the road, barking at cars, and nothing happens to them. I could have let him do that precisely because the previous owner treated him badly; Reks probably had to do everything on command. The other owner limited him through training, and I with love. I didn't trust him, and that killed him. That's why I had to take him off the couch and carry him to his favorite hill, where I buried him, where he liked to watch the town. Do you understand now?

"Yes, I understand that he blames himself for the dog's death, but it wasn't your fault, it was the driver's fault, who was going too fast to brake in time, and that's it. Love doesn't kill.

" "What are you, 19?" he asked, "and you probably haven't truly loved yet. You'll find out soon.

" "So, what's it like with love, tell me?" I prodded him, intrigued by this conversation, or rather monologue.

"Well, I'm no expert on love; you can't learn that from books, even if you read them all, but I'll tell you what I know from my own experience." And Mr. Rysiek began to tell me.

"I've loved twice in my life, and I've been loved twice. But they were two different loves. The first girl was Lucyna. We fell in love simply, nothing out of the ordinary. We were friends for a long time, then we fell in love, and over time, love emerged. The only difference was that each of us wanted the other exclusively, locked in a room and never let her out. We were jealous. We didn't like her friends, and she didn't like my friends. We were always together, constantly, and yet we were jealous. There was no balance, each wanted to be the one on top. I thought that was love. This lasted until I realized I was afraid to ask anything, to say anything, because either she wouldn't like it or it would cause jealousy. So, despite myself, I behaved as she expected. I thought that was what love was all about, sacrifice. But it's not true.

" "And what happened?

" "We broke up, never speaking to each other again." After that, I was alone for a long time, afraid of commitment and the pain that love can bring. But then I met another girl, she had beautiful brown eyes. And it was completely different. We didn't try to change each other, she liked my flaws, tolerated my boyish quirks. She was simply wonderful. Why? We simply respected each other, trusted each other. Each of us had our own world, with room for friends, colleagues, and work. Love doesn't manifest itself in constant being together, but in the constant desire to be together. Love is freedom, it's trust. You trust, and someone trusts you. So if you ever fall in love, remember old Mr. Rysiek's advice: Love has to breathe; you can't suffocate it. He finished, and she sank into the armchair, lighting a cigarette.

"Can I ask you something?

" "Sure, I'm listening," he said through a cloud of smoke.

"What happened to you and that girl?

" "That's a completely different story. Go and thank your mom for the jam," he said, smiling, a cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. So I left, intrigued by his story, but I didn't press him; everyone is entitled to their own secrets, even in our town. With the empty stroller, I set off home along the cobblestones, listening to the street noise.

After a while, Ula got over Reks's death; she could even laugh about it, but it was always laughter through tears. Mr. Rysiek stopped going for walks and never went up the hill again. He didn't have enough time for that; his shops were expanding, and he had to manage his business. And after a while, I understood what Mr. Rysiek was talking about and remembered his advice well. But that's another story.

******************