The children would often leave the house in tears and hungry, seeking shelter in Sultan’s doghouse, cuddling close to the warm side of the giant, shaggy guardian who had become not just their protector, but a true nanny—and a second mother…
It so happened that Nikolai Sergeevich was left alone in a spacious house on the outskirts of the district center—just him and his two small children. All the household responsibilities fell entirely on his shoulders. Nikolai worked as a chief engineer at a motor depot and occasionally went on business trips to fetch spare parts, machinery, and equipment. If it hadn’t been for kind-hearted Pakhomovna, an elderly helper, he would have been forced either to quit his good job or send the children to an orphanage.
His youngest daughter, Nina, could hear but didn’t speak. Doctors recommended waiting until she turned six and, if no improvements came, enrolling her in a special institution. Nina didn’t want to be apart from her brother Sasha, even for a minute. He was a year older and understood her without a word. That’s why they weren’t sent to kindergarten.
But it wasn’t just Sasha who understood little Nina. In the yard, in his doghouse, lived Sultan—a large, shaggy dog with a stern temperament. His booming bark could rattle windows. He only acknowledged Nikolai and Pakhomovna, performing his guard duties with unwavering seriousness. Everyone else who stepped beyond the fence was treated as a stranger.
However, to the children, Sultan was a true friend. They rode him like a pony, crawled into his doghouse, dressed him in old clothes from their father, and played with him for hours. Sultan gladly took part in their games and adventures.
Nikolai often noticed Nina whispering to the dog. Sultan listened intently and seemed to respond, licking her hands and face, making her burst into joyful giggles. Nikolai believed that mute Nina and the stern dog understood each other perfectly.
Though kind-hearted, Pakhomovna was growing old and often complained about her health.
“Nikolai Sergeevich, it’s time for you to get married,” she would mutter caringly. “It’s hard for you to manage alone with the kids, and I’m not what I used to be. Old age is catching up with me.”
During the November holidays, an old colleague came to visit Nikolai. Over dinner, they had a heartfelt conversation, and Nikolai walked him to the station. To pass the time, they stopped by the canteen, where behind the counter stood a smiling woman in her mid-forties. That’s how Nikolai met Galina.
From then on, he would often drop by the canteen and walk Galina home to her rented room in an old house. She told him she had moved from another region, had no children, and her husband had died in the war.
Soon, Nikolai invited her over. Galina arrived nicely dressed, bringing treats and gifts. She spent the whole day playing with the kids, drawing, and reading fairy tales. Nina and Sasha quickly warmed up to the cheerful woman. Only Sultan was unwelcoming—he growled and refused her treats.
“He’s just not very sociable,” Nikolai reassured her.
By New Year’s, Galina moved in with her belongings. They registered their marriage, and she quit her job to become a housewife. She liked the spacious home and set about putting things in order—cleaning windows, rearranging furniture, beating rugs.
Nikolai felt truly happy. The house was cozy, and the children were cared for. But over time, Galina began to grow irritated with the kids. They took up her free time, got in the way of socializing, partying with friends, flirting, and relaxing.
