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Updated: May 9, 2025
And the dog must be strangled. Without delay! It's sure to be mad. . . . Whose dog is it, I ask?" "I fancy it's General Zhigalov's," says someone in the crowd. "General Zhigalov's, h'm. . . . Help me off with my coat, Yeldyrin . . . it's frightfully hot! It must be a sign of rain. . . . There's one thing I can't make out, how it came to bite you?" Otchumyelov turns to Hryukin.
"It's not written on its face. . . . I saw one like it the other day in his yard." "It is the General's, that's certain!" says a voice in the crowd. "H'm, help me on with my overcoat, Yeldyrin, my lad . . . the wind's getting up. . . . I am cold. . . . You take it to the General's, and inquire there. Say I found it and sent it.
I'll teach them to let their dogs run all over the place! It's time these gentry were looked after, if they won't obey the regulations! When he's fined, the blackguard, I'll teach him what it means to keep dogs and such stray cattle! I'll give him a lesson! . . . Yeldyrin," cries the superintendent, addressing the policeman, "find out whose dog this is and draw up a report!
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