Let tomorrow come

Chapter 19.

Grandma has a dog. Yorkshire Terrier. Her name is Astra. As long as I remember myself at a conscious age, she has always been with us. Grandma prefers to spend time at home, but does not forget to tell the other inhabitants of our large house what and how they are supposed to do. And I was tired of her endless lectures about the benefits of fresh air. Only every day at half past four she leaves the house for twenty minutes and no more, goes to the backyard with Astra and walks along the path that stretches along the perimeter of the lawn. There, then back, and so on several times. And she comes back again. My grandmother is sixty-three years old, although she looks somewhat younger. For example, Grandma Greta runs in the morning, although they are the same age. But my grandmother doesn't understand her. On the other hand, my grandmother is fond of creams and masks for rejuvenation, but Grandma Greta is not. But this does not stop them from being friends. But I talked a lot for now. In the morning my governess Alice walks with Astra, and in the evening the gardener Claude.

On Sundays, everyone who lives in the house gathers for a picnic, regardless of the weather. And we always take Astra with us. When I was younger, my grandmother would make me read aloud so I could practice my reading technique, just at these picnics. She hasn't been doing this for the last six months, so I can just sit, eat a nice meal (thanks Marco), and look at the nature around me. In winter we don't have picnics outside because it's cold. Then we gather in grandma's large living room. On such days I eat a lot and just absorb books somewhere by the fireplace. Where Peter usually likes to sit.

It's March outside, the snow has begun to melt, we go to the park not far from our house and sit in a gazebo with columns. I think it's precisely because of the strict shape of the columns that grandma loves this gazebo, otherwise we wouldn't come here. Marco has prepared food, and after a long winter break we must again make a second foray into the damn gazebo...

I just wanted to write about the fact that in my life there is also a furry creature named Astra. But it turned out that I remembered the poor dog just in time. In order to get to the gazebo, we still need to cross the bridge over the stream. While we were sitting in the gazebo, John was trying to shoot birds in the park with a homemade slingshot. I tried to tell my grandmother, but when she turned around, this bad guy pretended that he was just walking. However, Astra also ran with him, and as a result, a pebble from the slingshot hit her. Apparently it was not the smallest, because she squealed and rolled down in surprise, straight into the stream. At the edge, she was still able to slow down, but remained lying motionless.

"I told you so!" I shouted to my grandmother and ran after the dog.

Claude hurried after me, and John tried to pretend that he had nothing to do with it. But the grandmother came up to him and grabbed his hand.

"Young man, this is the last thing I expected from you. Pray that everything will be fine with her," she said this displeasedly, but quietly, but I still heard it. Claude had already joined and picked Astra up in his arms.

"Mrs. Eugena, we should take her to the vet."

"Of course, call Miss Litter now so that she can see you urgently. I'll go with you. Ann, take the children home. You," she turned to John, "will stay in your room until the evening. Nanny Sophie, please keep an eye on your charge, Anne, you will also help her. Alice will come with us. Sorry we had to finish earlier than usual."

They walked quickly towards the house. As soon as they were no longer visible, we breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you understand that you just did a very bad thing?!" Ann turned to John.

Nanny Sophie nodded disapprovingly. John trudged after her sadly. And so do we.

***

Two days have passed. Astra has a broken hip and internal damage (though I didn't understand what exactly) from the pebble that John threw at her. The grandmother does not speak to her grandson. She is very sad. And we are all sad. If my brother had just hit a stone into it, there wouldn't have been such problems. Although this is also a bad thing. But since she couldn't resist and rolled down a fairly steep slope, this complicated the situation. But we really hope that everything will be fine.

***

Unfortunately, our poor Astra passed away a few days later. I cried, Alice cried, and even my grandmother shed a few stingy tears. The vet told us she had an internal hemorrhage. But at night when this happened, everyone was sleeping, and in the morning it was already late. I don't want to add anything more, I'm upset about what happened.