A story from life, after which the desire to help others and help those in need disappears. Bashny.Net

In any city of any country there are such. Brazen people. The phenomenon is truly international. Some of them may have housemates. Some may not even be lucky with their relatives. “Audacity is a second happiness,” says a popular saying, but how much nerve it eats from others.



One of our regular readers wrote to us and shared his story. His situation, in our opinion, is rather winning. But it was not without some negativity. It seems to us that everyone will draw conclusions for himself.

Insolent People: Hello, Dear Ones "Site". I have been reading your articles for a long time and I admit that I find them quite useful. I’m also interested in hearing from your readers. So I had a reason to write.

You know, I live alone. This happened due to some circumstances, which I may even write about in the future. But the point remains that. I have a favorite job in the office, for which I am not too lazy to get up in the morning almost every day.



I like to walk, it’s a pity, the office itself is not in the rainbow area of the city. Especially now that snow has fallen and we have to maneuver between dirty gray piles of frozen water and mud on the road. Well, it's okay, it happens.

One day, when I was on my way home, I wanted to enjoy a delicious pizza. To do this, you need to make a nice hook, but the local pizzeria had a delicious filling and inexpensive prices. What do we do, we have to go.

On the way to the pizzeria, I noticed a small crowd of some gibberish girls. They were clothed, with bright nails and colorful ornaments. Although their outfits reminded me of gypsy dresses, I noticed that they were all local: blond hair and freckles will not let you lie. My curiosity won, and I headed straight for loud company.

There were four of them. The oldest in appearance was 19 years old, and the youngest probably went to high school. The girls hung out near a large cardboard box and molested people passing by. “Uncle, give the dog money for food.” You see, the poor girl will freeze. I looked inside the box and saw a dachshund with sad eyes just lying on some rags and not moving.



To be honest, I don’t like animals very much. Especially dogs. Constantly barking, shitting and chewing everything that comes to their eyes. But this dachshund seemed to me so tired of life and apparently sick that I was even somehow soft. He gave the Gypsies some money and went for pizza. The day passed, like the previous few, calmly.

The next morning I woke up late. Weekend. There was nothing to do, so I decided to take a walk. My feet took me to the place where I saw the girls with the dog yesterday. They were all there, they didn’t seem to leave at all. I scraped some small stuff in my pocket and approached the youth. Instead of greetings, I was asked to give money. That's what I did.

As I walked away from a bunch of kids, I suddenly realized I felt sorry for the tormented animal inside a dirty box. After talking to the girls, even buying them pizza, I walked home with a doggy shaking with the cold (as it turned out) and a pack of dog food started.

We spent the whole weekend at the vet, and I went to the pet store, bought a warm couch. It turned out that Sardeli has a slight malaise associated with lack of food, a few more uninteresting problems, but overall everything is not bad. Sardel, as you may have guessed, I personally named the dog.



All week we were treated and accustomed to a new life. The dog was intelligent and calm. He did not bark, but lay quietly in his warm corner. We went for a walk when we needed to. Little by little, the animal was recovering.

About a week and a half or so later, I had to walk by that pizza place. The girls, of course, were gone. But after walking a little further than 400-500 meters, I discovered a company I already knew. They again called the honest people, pointing a finger at a smaller cardboard box.

As I walked by, I automatically looked inside. There was a small mongrel sitting there. Energetic eyes, looking at me. There's just some yellow plastic on the ear. Father, that's a sanitary mark! Now I was determined to talk to the little bastards. But the dialogue didn't work out.

“Don't interfere with work, uncle. You took the dog, and we have no one to stand with. You got money? We need to feed.” By the way, while I was talking to them, a compassionate grandmother gave the children a 50 ruble bill, pityed the “poor”. To all my objections, the girls reacted extremely aggressively and inadequately. Passersby turned around.



I left. Now let me tell you what kind of dog this is with such an interesting tag. Maybe you don't. Yes, it is a stray dog, but there are a few nuances:

1. She is perfectly healthy, has the right vaccinations and is sterilized.
2. It is registered in a special database.
3. Destroys rats, which means fighting the possible spread of infections.
4. Eating lying edible products on the local territory.

So, just so you understand, the dog is registered. And you can't make any money from it. By the way, Sardel was severely malnourished, so I very much doubt that at least part of the funds that the "Gypsies" begged from passers-by went to feed animals.



When I got home, I thought hard. That's how much audacity it takes to use animals to earn these pennies! And a crowd of four people. The next day I decided to go to the police to resolve the matter. But neither the beggars nor the cardboard box were there. The circus must have moved. Well, that's bad. The only thing that pleases me is that now Sardella brightens up my loneliness. I suddenly became a doggie.