The day was hot and sunny. All around smelled of spring and summer: blossoming trees, flowers, and young plants starting their new life. Summer tried with all its might to overtake spring and become number one in the life of nature. The trees swayed in the light wind; they seemed to beg May to stay with them a little longer and save their green leaves from the coming hot weather.

Spring and summer are my favorite seasons. You can walk along the street, lie on the grass, bask in the sun, and smell the sweet aromas of flowers and cut grass. The days become longer, and the nights get warmer. This is exactly the time when I feel life to the fullest.

One day, I was walking in the village. It was a new, unfamiliar place. My attention was drawn to two large trees that were planted very close to each other. Birch trees. Tall and sprawling, they stood out from the rest with their grandeur. But, in addition to their beauty, they also carried a practical benefit: they provided such a desirable shade. So, I sat down to rest under them.

To my left was a field where wildflowers were growing. Cornflower, field poppies, buttercup, chicory, and small red ones with protruding stamens whose name I never knew. Over the area, steppe eagles circled, searching for prey. Contemplating the birds, I once again thought that our whole lives revolve around food: either you eat someone, or you are eaten. My stomach interrupted my philosophical thoughts by loudly announcing that it was time to eat. However, I had no food with me.

To the right, across the street, there was a house. It was a classic house, the kind found in abundance throughout Ukrainian villages—one-story adobe, with a small veranda. Of course, there was a cherry orchard near the house. It was the kind of house that gave you the feeling that you have found yourself in Taras Shevchenko’s poems, and now you have to hear the singing of Ukrainian girls returning from the field.

I heard sounds in the house's yard and realized someone lived there. I listened hard for signs of what was happening. Inside the courtyard, people were pining for June, the season where finally the cherries they planted last year would ripen and they could try their taste. To eat cherries, you had to go down a little along the plot of land and approach the trees that are ready to share their fruits. You pluck a cherry from a tree and eat it right away. You feel its rich taste. The juice drips on your lips, drops always fall on your clothes, and the birds above you scream and try to drive you away from "their" cherries.

I sat, watched, and listened.

After some time, the gate opened, and a girl came out on the road. She looked at the flowers near the fence. She didn't see me immediately. I lay low and waited for what would happen next. The girl turned and looked at me. At first, it was a look of surprise and a little fear. After a moment, her gaze became warmer, and I felt we could have a pleasant acquaintance.

After some time, she offered me food, and I happily accepted. Buckwheat with stew was on the menu. As for buckwheat, I'm not a fan. But I really, really love stew!

Several months passed. We started living together. We became a classic couple: we took walks together, laid next to each other on the same bed, looked into each other's eyes, and smiled. She cooked for me, and I happily ate her dishes. I especially liked the baked salmon. She cooked it in foil, sometimes adding lemon and spices, but sometimes without anything.

We usually bought our food at the fair, which was held on Saturdays in our area. They had fish, plenty of fish, and what didn’t they have? Meat, cheese, vegetables, fruits, nuts; anything we could possibly want was all there. The variety of fruits depended on the season. With the greatest impatience, my girlfriend waited for June, when her favorite cherries appeared. Once they finally arrived, it happened that for whole days she ate only cherries and nothing else. I couldn’t understand it, because I prefer meat and fish to fruit.

We loved going grocery shopping together. I loved the fair because there I experienced a huge variety of smells. On the left, they sell vegetables; opposite, cheese; and the smell of fresh chicken can be sensed in the distance.

After the fair and a salmon lunch, we usually walked in the small botanical garden or Shevchenko Square. I have always had resounding success on these walks. Everyone who saw me asked my girlfriend where I was from and my breed. But the fact is, I do not have a clearly defined breed. I am unique. The only thing that can be said is that some of my relatives were probably terriers. My tail, fur, and unbearable desire to dig holes and hunt various gophers speak for themselves. My mistress jokingly calls me "Chupacabra." But I won't tell you what it is. Better ask her.

When people see me, they smile. The bravest ones try to pet me; usually, children. I'm not that keen on it, but I allow it. In general, you should remember that I love delicious things, and if you ever pet me, don't forget to offer treats first; I prefer biscuits or pieces of dried meat.

My relatives joke that there is little point in my presence and that all I do is cost money with all the food I eat. The mistress likes to say that she feeds me, but to what end? My presence is neither here nor there. Yes, ok, I am a small dog, BUT I still have value. And I don't eat their food just like that. I do things! For example, if someone comes to visit, I get terribly menacing and start scolding them loudly so that everyone knows that the house is well-guarded!

As the years passed, my life had all the signs of a dog's happiness: it was warm, with lots of food, and peace.

But, one day, everything changed. It was the end of winter. I heard a loud noise early in the chilly morning, similar to fireworks, which I dislike because of their sharp sounds and unexpected explosions. But the new year had already arrived, and those fireworks are usually set off in the evening, not early in the morning. That morning changed the life I was living up to that point.

I did not know what to do and, for the first time, did not understand how to protect my mistress. And, to be honest, I was very scared, myself. I don't remember much from that time—only fragments of unfamiliar smells, the excited voices of people I didn’t recognize, loud sounds, and the frightened looks of other dogs. You will be surprised, but even the neighbor's towering 50-kilogram Cane Corso looked like a small puppy. Everything became different.

Now, when people saw me, they didn't smile. More precisely, they looked at me, smiled for a few seconds, looked into my eyes, caressed me, but after that, looked away, and started to cry. Especially women. I don't know why this happened. Did I become somehow pathetic? What is wrong with me? I always gave people joy and made them smile. What did I do wrong?

At night, I had dreams where I was strong and could protect my mistress from all dangers. And, most importantly, I was able to make her smile again, hear her laugh, and play together as usual. I loved these dreams the most. At those times, the feeling that everything was fine returned to me. But when I woke up, I was plunged into a new reality. The only thing that remained constant was that she was there. She began to take me in her arms more often. And I liked that, because there, I felt safe.

One day, we stopped in a new town, where everyone spoke a language I didn't know. It was a foreign country. I had never been 400 miles away from the village where my mistress found me before, and I was nervous—what would these people be like? Would they give me treats? Or circle me like prey? But soon I found the people there were amiable people. For the first time in a long time, it seemed to me that now everything would be fine.

People looked at me, stroked my stiff and bushy fur, and smiled. And when they found out where I was from, I noticed that their eyes became sadder and gentler at the same time. And now they always give me food! So much food! I have never seen such piles of canned dog food in my entire life! The good stuff! Oh, everything is delicious there. And you know what else? When these people brought me food, they also gave food to my mistress. So, my dear, let me feed you! Would you like canned food with the taste of fish or stew?

I am sitting on a pink chair I bought at the store today. This color does not fit the color scheme of my apartment. It's just that the chair was on sale, and there’s a war going on outside. So I thought: plague take him! Let it be pink! I have a large window in the kitchen, through which you can see the sky. It is blue. Looking at it for a long time, it seems nothing has changed.

I hear cars driving by and children playing next door. And I also hear swallows flying over my house and loudly chatting with each other. I feel the aroma of summer and my hometown. I press keys on the computer, and text appears on the screen. This is the first text I was able to write since my life was divided into "before" and "after." There is a plate with cherries nearby. How glad I am to taste them again! I look around and look at my apartment. What an exciting and happy life was here!

I bought a ticket today. That ticket would take me away from this chair, this window, this apartment, once more. I stare at it on my screen until my eyes get dry. I stare at it for hours, and I still don’t know. Did I come back to stay, or to go again?