From the kitchen window I could see the earthen stable, aslant, with a tile jutting out, in the white vastness of the plain, where the hawk would stand. It was only when the house was ready that I did realize I would live there, so I thought of a saving solution – commensurate with the land and the house - a dog to watch outside day and night, ignoring the bitter cold. In front of the stable, in the middle of the yard, I set the kennel of Baruc, a shepherd puppy who would bark all day long; he barked at the hawk, at the sparrows, at the hamsters, he barked at all living creatures. His bark was filling the darkness, s’iding down to the river and knocking against the hills.
As the puppy was growing, I felt more and more secure and well at ease. He was getting more and more vicious and had a special repugnance to Uncle Samu and Uncle Gabi, my neighbors on the right and on the left, respectively. He drew near the fence and barked at them till foam came to his muzzle. Worst of all, I didnlt have a solid fence. It was quite expensive to set up such a long fence and I didnlt have enough money for that.
There was an iron fence on Uncle Gabils side, but one day the old man had it removed and sold it to buy fire wood. His nephews replaced it with putrid boards which they laid among the half-dead trees, their leaves torn out by the wind. If only he had asked me, I would have paid him for the fence provided he had left it there. But when I came from work, the job was done. The next day I heard noises and I saw Baruc running about Gabils yard and chasing the hens. He had jumped over the fence and tumbled down with the boards and all, on the fowls that were quietly pecking their grains. I called out at him but he pretended not to hear me and he went on fooling around.
