KITTEN AND PEOPLE

The stove I have works very badly. Sitting around it, my whole
family is always stifling from the fumes. And that housing co-
operative of devils refuses to make any repairs. They're economiz-
ing. On current expenses.

Recently they had a look at this stove of mine. They looked
at the flues. They stuck their heads in inside.

"Nothing wrong," they say. "One can live."

"Comrades," I say, "it's downright shameful to utter words
like that: one can live. We keep stifling from the fumes around
your stove. Recently, even our kitten stifled from the fumes.
Recently she even got sick at the bucket. But you are saying
one can live."

The housing co-operative of devils says: "In that case," they
say, "we'll set up an experiment now and have a look whether
your stove is really stifling. If we stifle now after turning it up
your luck we'll repair it. If we don't stifle we'll excuse our-
selves for the heating."

We warmed up the stove. We deposited ourselves around it.

We sit. We sniff.

Here, near the damper, the chairman was sitting; here, Secretary
Griboedov; and here on my bed, the treasurer.

Naturally, the fumes soon began to spread through the room.

The chairman took a sniff, and he says: "Not a thing. Don't
smell a thing. Warm air's coming out, nothing else."

The treasurer, that plague, says: "The air's quite excellent.
And one can sniff it. From this, one doesn't get dizzy. In my
apartment," he says, "the air stinks much worse, and yet I," he
says, "don't go around whimpering for nothing. But here the air
is quite smooth."

"Pardon me," I say, "what do you mean smooth? Just look
how the gas is streaming out."

The chairman says: "Call the kitten. If the kitten will sit still,
that means there's not a horse-radish wrong. An animal is always
disinterested in a case like this. It's not a man. You can trust it."

The kitten comes. Sits herself down on the bed. Sits calmly.
And why does she sit calmly? It's a clear case she's already
gotten a bit used to it.

"Not a thing," says the chairman, "we're sorry."

Suddenly, the treasurer rocks on the bed and says: "You know,
I've got to hurry. I've got business to attend to."

And he goes over to the window and breathes through the
chink.

And he's turning green and actually swaying on his feet.

The chairman says: "We'll be going now."

I drew him away from the window.

"It's impossible," I say, "to get expert judgment that way."

He says: "As you like. I can leave the window. Your air is
quite healthy to me. Natural air, good for the health. I cannot
give you any repairs. The stove is normal."

But half an hour later, when this very chairman was lying
on a stretcher and the stretcher was being carried to the first-aid
ambulance, I spoke with him again.

I say: "Well, what now?"

"Why no," he says, "there will be no repairs. One can live."
And so they did not repair it.

Well, what's to be done? I'm getting used to it. A man isn't a
flea he can get used to anything.