"Eliot Fintushel - Uxo, Bomb Dog" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fintushel Eliot)

sometimes it only takes a tic. Then I heard the yapping and the teasing. Yips and shouts echoed one over
the other through the empty station:

тАЬHold him. Hold him still.тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩm holdinтАЩ him. Waddaya think IтАЩm doinтАЩ here? Peel your belt and slip it round his middle. Hurry up.
Jeez, this muttтАЩs a handful.тАЭ

тАЬI got a rope up one leg here.тАЭ

тАЬTie the cans on.тАЭ

тАЬWould you please hold him still?тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩm holdinтАЩ him still.тАЭ

They were in the stairwell that led down to the commode, a dangerous place in its time, the Grand
Central Station MenтАЩs, but for different reasons. I saw the dirt tracks leading there, and I left the
monkeys in the chandelier and followed them. I kept to the tracks careful as I could. There were pits and
corrugations everywhere in the old tile, any one of which could hide a man killing gob of explosive. At my
back I heard Spot complain: тАЬLeave тАШem be, Blacks. WeтАЩve warned тАШem, ainтАЩt we? If they blow
themselves up, it ainтАЩt on us.тАЭ
I rounded the corner. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark of the corridor that ended in
the stairway down. Three or four kids wrestled with a dog. The creature yelped and cowered while they
manhandled and bound him. He was a sorry thing to look at, a loose sack of bones and knots, the fur
dull and patchy, matted with filth. The dog wasnтАЩt fighting to beat them, either. The moves he made,
curling and feinting, head lowered, fangs hidden, were those of a puppy at play. But the poor thing was
confused by the childrenтАЩs ferocity. He whined, cocked his head, and tried to scamper back while they
labored to pin and tether him. They were so absorbed in the business, the dog, weakened and baffled as
he was, making them fight so hard, that I was able to come right up on them before they noticed me.

тАЬYou kids crazy? This place is mined. Let that dog go, and . . . тАЭ The words stuck in my craw. The kids
turned their heads to see what ailed me, what had choked off the booming galoot. Me, I just stared at the
dog, ghost of a dog, yes, ghost of a square, fine dog, the once bushy tail, albeit balder, curled back into a
little circle as of old, his ears, as of old, taut and low, and the coat of fine fur, though wrinkled and
sagging, with the same scarlet patch . . . тАЬUxo!тАЭ

Ux cocked his head at me. He sniffed, then yelped and bounded so hard he slipped the kids, trailing sisal
and hemp, and ended before me, up on his hind legs with his forepaws on my chest, a licking and a
licking my stubbly mug.

тАЬHe your dog, Mister?тАЭ They were thunderstruck.

I stood on a landing halfway down the narrow stairwell. тАЬDown, boy - do you know, you kids, do you
have any idea who this canine is?тАЭ I kissed him and rubbed him while he tried to engulf me for sheer joy
and dog love, than which thereтАЩs nothing bigger. тАЬThis is Uxo the bomb dog.тАЭ

тАЬBomb dog?тАЭ

I had them now. тАЬSo happens this dog achieved the rank of colonel in the United States Army.тАЭ