The main characters of the story. Animal world Kuprina A.I. Analysis of Kuprin’s work Dog’s Happiness

>Characteristics of heroes

Characteristics of the main characters

Jack

Pointer dog, one and a half years old, brown color. This is a cheerful dog who fell behind his owner and ended up in a cage of the same unfortunate animals who were caught and taken to the knackers. Along the way, he meets other dogs, some of whom turn out to be seasoned captives, and tell all the horrors that happen at the knackery.

Artaud

White poodle, works in a circus, professor of balancing act. He was raided for the fourth time, each previous time his owner took him away. He told the newcomers in the cage where they were being taken, and what the slaughterhouse was, as well as what horrors were happening in it. In his opinion, a dog’s happiness is when the dog has an owner who can save him from the slaughterhouse. The purple dog proved to him that every dog ​​can be the master of his own destiny.

Purple Dog

An unsociable dog, a mongrel, who lay curled up in the corner of the cage. I ended up with the knackers for the seventh time. It was purple because the painters had smeared it for fun. There was a sense of courage and strength in him. Sometimes he would insert some rude phrase into the conversation of the other dogs. After arriving at the knackery, he told the poodle Artaud that he was wrong about a dog’s happiness and escaped by jumping over the fence, although he was seriously injured.

Mouse Great Dane

A dog with cropped ears and a leather belt around his neck. He almost had a quarrel with Jack, at the beginning of which they were captured together by the knackers.

Bud

Mongrel, a red dog who was the very first to get into the cage. He had a lackey character.

Liverette

A beautiful, long-legged dog that ended up in a cage with all the other dogs. She was very well-groomed and scared.

Alexander Kuprin

Dog happiness

It was about six or seven o'clock on a good September morning when the one-and-a-half-year-old pointer Jack, a brown, long-eared, cheerful dog, went to the market with the cook Annushka. He knew the road perfectly and therefore confidently ran ahead all the time, sniffing the sidewalk curbs in passing and stopping at intersections to look back at the cook. Seeing confirmation in her face and gait, he resolutely turned around and started forward at a brisk gallop.

Having thus turned around the familiar sausage shop, Jack did not find Annushka. He rushed back so quickly that even his left ear curled up from his fast running. But Annushka was not visible from the nearby intersection. Then Jack decided to navigate by smell. He stopped and, carefully moving his wet, mobile nose in all directions, tried to catch in the air the familiar smell of Annushka’s dress, the smell of a dirty kitchen table and gray soap. But at that moment a woman walked past Jack with a hurried gait and, touching him on the side with her rustling skirt, left behind her a strong stream of disgusting Chinese perfume. Jack shook his head in annoyance and sneezed - Annushka’s trail was completely lost.

However, the pointer was not at all discouraged by this. He was well acquainted with the city and therefore could always very easily find his way home: he just had to run to the sausage shop, from the sausage shop to the greengrocer's, then turn left past a large gray house, from the basements of which there was always such a delicious smell of burnt butter - and he already on your street. But Jack was in no hurry. The morning was fresh, bright, and in the clean, softly transparent and slightly humid air, all shades of smells acquired extraordinary subtlety and distinctness. Running past the post office with his tail stretched out like a stick and his nostrils quivering, Jack could say with confidence that not more than a minute ago a large, mousey, middle-aged Great Dane, who was usually fed oatmeal, stopped here.

And indeed, after running two hundred steps, he saw this Great Dane, trotting at a sedate trot. The dog's ears were cropped short, and a wide, worn-out belt hung around his neck.

Dog noticed Jack and stopped, half turning back. Jack twirled his tail defiantly and began to slowly approach the stranger, pretending to be looking somewhere to the side. The mousey Great Dane did the same with his tail and showed his white teeth widely. Then they both growled, turning their muzzles away from each other and as if choking.

“If he says anything offensive to my honor or to the honor of all decent pointers in general, I will grab his side, near his left hind leg,” thought Jack. – Dog, of course, is stronger than me, but he is clumsy and stupid. Look, the idiot is standing sideways and doesn’t suspect that he has opened the entire left flank for attack.”

And suddenly... Something inexplicable, almost supernatural, happened. The mousey Great Dane suddenly fell onto his back, and some invisible force pulled him off the sidewalk. Following this, the same invisible force tightly engulfed the astonished Jack's throat... Jack planted his front legs and shook his head furiously. But an invisible “something” squeezed his neck so tightly that the brown pointer lost consciousness.

He came to his senses in a cramped iron cage, which was shaking on the stones of the pavement, rattling all its poorly screwed parts. From the pungent dog smell, Jack immediately guessed that the cage had been a home for dogs of all ages and breeds for many years. On the trestles in front of the cage sat two men of appearance that did not inspire any confidence.

A fairly large society has already gathered in the cage. First of all, Jack noticed a mousey Great Dane, with whom he almost quarreled on the street. The dog stood with his muzzle buried between two iron sticks and squealed pitifully, while his body swayed back and forth from the shaking. In the middle of the cage lay, with its intelligent muzzle stretched out between its rheumatic paws, an old white poodle, cut like a lion, with tassels on its knees and at the end of its tail. The poodle seemed to regard his situation with philosophical stoicism, and if he had not sighed occasionally and winked his eyebrows, one would have thought that he was sleeping. Sitting next to him, shivering from the morning cold and excitement, was a pretty, well-groomed Italian greyhound with long, thin legs and a sharp muzzle. From time to time she yawned nervously, curling her pink tongue like a tube and accompanying each yawn with a long, thin squeal... Closer to the rear end of the cage, a sleek black dachshund with yellow markings on its chest and eyebrows pressed tightly against the bars. She could not recover from the amazement that gave an unusually comical appearance to her long crocodile body on inverted low legs and her serious muzzle with her ears almost dragging along the floor.

In addition to this more or less secular company, there were two more undoubted mongrels in the cage. One of them, similar to those dogs that are universally called Buds and are distinguished by a base character, was shaggy, red and had a fluffy tail wrapped in the shape of the number 9. She got into the cage before everyone else and, apparently, became so comfortable with her exceptional position that she had long been looking for an opportunity to strike up an interesting conversation with someone. The last dog was almost invisible; he hid in the darkest corner and lay there, curled up in a ball. During the entire time, he only got up once to growl at Jack, who came close to him, but this was enough to arouse the strongest antipathy towards him in the entire casual society. Firstly, it was purple, which was smeared in it by a team of painters on their way to work. Secondly, the fur on it stood on end and in separate tufts. Third, he was obviously angry, hungry, brave and strong; this was reflected in the decisive push of his emaciated body with which he jumped up to meet the taken aback Jack.

The silence lasted for about a quarter of an hour. Finally, Jack, who never lost his sense of humor on any occasion in life, remarked in a foppish tone:

– The adventure is starting to get interesting. Curious where these gentlemen will make their first station?

The old poodle did not like the frivolous tone of the brown pointer. He slowly turned his head towards Jack and snapped with cold mockery:

“I can satisfy your curiosity, young man.” Gentlemen will make a station in the knacker.

“What!.. Excuse me... I’m sorry... I didn’t hear,” Jack muttered, involuntarily sitting down, because his legs instantly began to tremble. - You deigned to say: in life...

“Yes, in the slaughterhouse,” the poodle confirmed just as coldly and turned away.

- Sorry... but I didn’t quite understand you... The knacker... What kind of institution is this - the knacker? Would you be so kind as to explain yourself?

The poodle was silent. But since the Italian greyhound and the dachshund joined Jack’s request, the old man, not wanting to be impolite in front of the ladies, had to give some details.

“This, you see, is a mesdames, a large yard surrounded by a high, pointed fence, where dogs caught on the streets are locked up. I had the misfortune to end up in this place three times.

Undoubtedly, the voice coming from the corner belonged to the purple dog. The society was shocked by the interference of this torn personality in the conversation and therefore pretended not to hear her remarks. Only Budon, moved by the lackey zeal of an upstart, shouted:

– Please do not interfere unless asked!

And immediately he looked searchingly into the eyes of the important, mousey Great Dane.

“I’ve been there three times,” the poodle continued, “but my master always came and took me from there (I work in the circus, and, you understand, they value me) ... So, sir, two hundred or two hundred people gather in this unpleasant place at a time.” three dogs...

– Tell me, is there decent society there? – the Italian greyhound asked coyly.

- It happens. We were fed unusually poorly and little. From time to time, one of the prisoners disappeared to unknown destination, and then we dined on soup from...

Alexander Kuprin

One of the writer’s friends recalled that he “never saw Kuprin pass by a dog on the street and not stop so as not to pet him.” Kuprin created a whole series of stories about dogs: “White Poodle”, “Pirate”, “Dog’s Happiness”, “Barbos and Zhulka”, “Zaviraika”, “Barry”, “Balt”, “Ralph”, “Peregrine” and others.

Dog happiness

It was about six or seven o'clock on a good September morning when the one-and-a-half-year-old pointer Jack, a brown, long-eared, cheerful dog, went to the market with the cook Annushka. He knew the road perfectly and therefore confidently ran ahead all the time, sniffing the sidewalk curbs in passing and stopping at intersections to look back at the cook. Seeing confirmation in her face and gait, he resolutely turned around and started forward at a brisk gallop.

Having thus turned around the familiar sausage shop, Jack did not find Annushka. He rushed back so quickly that even his left ear curled up from his fast running. But Annushka was not visible from the nearby intersection. Then Jack decided to navigate by smell. He stopped and, carefully moving his wet, mobile nose in all directions, tried to catch in the air the familiar smell of Annushka’s dress, the smell of a dirty kitchen table and gray soap. But at that moment a woman walked past Jack with a hurried gait and, touching him on the side with her rustling skirt, left behind her a strong stream of disgusting Chinese perfume. Jack shook his head in annoyance and sneezed - Annushka’s trail was completely lost.

However, the pointer was not at all discouraged by this. He was well acquainted with the city and therefore could always very easily find his way home: he just had to run to the sausage shop, from the sausage shop to the greengrocer's, then turn left past a large gray house, from the basements of which there was always such a delicious smell of burnt butter - and he already on your street. But Jack was in no hurry. The morning was fresh, bright, and in the clean, softly transparent and slightly humid air, all shades of smells acquired extraordinary subtlety and distinctness. Running past the post office with his tail stretched out like a stick and his nostrils quivering, Jack could say with confidence that not more than a minute ago a large, mousey, middle-aged Great Dane, who was usually fed oatmeal, stopped here.

And indeed, after running two hundred steps, he saw this Great Dane, trotting at a sedate trot. The dog's ears were cropped short, and a wide, worn-out belt hung around his neck.

Dog noticed Jack and stopped, half turning back. Jack twirled his tail defiantly and began to slowly approach the stranger, pretending to be looking somewhere to the side. The mousey Great Dane did the same with his tail and showed his white teeth widely. Then they both growled, turning their muzzles away from each other and as if choking.

“If he says anything offensive to my honor or to the honor of all decent pointers in general, I will grab him in the side, near his left hind leg,” thought Jack. - Dog, of course, is stronger than me, but he is clumsy and stupid. Look, the idiot is standing sideways and doesn’t suspect that he has opened the entire left flank for attack.”

And suddenly... Something inexplicable, almost supernatural, happened. The mousey Great Dane suddenly fell onto his back, and some invisible force pulled him off the sidewalk. Following this, the same invisible force tightly engulfed the astonished Jack's throat... Jack planted his front legs and shook his head furiously. But an invisible “something” squeezed his neck so tightly that the brown pointer lost consciousness.

He came to his senses in a cramped iron cage, which was shaking on the stones of the pavement, rattling all its poorly screwed parts. From the pungent dog smell, Jack immediately guessed that the cage had been a home for dogs of all ages and breeds for many years. On the trestles in front of the cage sat two men of appearance that did not inspire any confidence.

A fairly large society has already gathered in the cage. First of all, Jack noticed a mousey Great Dane, with whom he almost quarreled on the street.

The dog stood with his muzzle buried between two iron sticks and squealed pitifully, while his body swayed back and forth from the shaking. In the middle of the cage lay, with its intelligent muzzle stretched out between its rheumatic paws, an old white poodle, cut like a lion, with tassels on its knees and at the end of its tail. The poodle seemed to regard his situation with philosophical stoicism, and if he had not sighed occasionally and winked his eyebrows, one would have thought that he was sleeping. Sitting next to him, shivering from the morning cold and excitement, was a pretty, well-groomed Italian greyhound with long, thin legs and a sharp muzzle. From time to time she yawned nervously, curling her pink tongue like a tube and accompanying each yawn with a long, thin squeal... Closer to the rear end of the cage, a sleek black dachshund with yellow markings on its chest and eyebrows pressed tightly against the bars. She could not recover from the amazement that gave an unusually comical appearance to her long crocodile body on inverted low legs and her serious muzzle with her ears almost dragging along the floor.

In addition to this more or less secular company, there were two more undoubted mongrels in the cage. One of them, similar to those dogs that are universally called Buds and are distinguished by a base character, was shaggy, red and had a fluffy tail wrapped in the shape of the number 9. She got into the cage before everyone else and, apparently, became so comfortable with her exceptional position that she had long been looking for an opportunity to strike up an interesting conversation with someone. The last dog was almost invisible; he hid in the darkest corner and lay there, curled up in a ball. During the entire time, he only got up once to growl at Jack, who came close to him, but this was enough to arouse the strongest antipathy towards him in the entire casual society. Firstly, it was purple, which was smeared in it by a team of painters on their way to work. Secondly, the fur on it stood on end and in separate tufts. Third, he was obviously angry, hungry, brave and strong; this was reflected in the decisive push of his emaciated body with which he jumped up to meet the taken aback Jack.

The silence lasted for about a quarter of an hour. Finally, Jack, who never lost his sense of humor on any occasion in life, remarked in a foppish tone:

The adventure starts to get interesting. Curious where these gentlemen will make their first station?

The old poodle did not like the frivolous tone of the brown pointer. He slowly turned his head towards Jack and snapped with cold mockery:

I can satisfy your curiosity, young man. Gentlemen will make a station in the knacker.

How!.. Excuse me... I’m sorry... I didn’t hear,” Jack muttered, involuntarily sitting down, because his legs instantly began to tremble. - You deigned to say: in life...

Yes, in the slaughterhouse,” the poodle confirmed just as coldly and turned away.

Sorry... but I didn’t quite understand you... The knacker... What kind of institution is this - the knacker? Would you be so kind as to explain yourself?

The poodle was silent. But since the Italian greyhound and the dachshund joined Jack’s request, the old man, not wanting to be impolite in front of the ladies, had to give some details.

This, you see, is a mesdames, a large yard surrounded by a high, pointed fence, where dogs caught on the streets are locked up. I had the misfortune to end up in this place three times.

What a surprise! - a hoarse voice was heard from a dark corner. - This is my seventh time going there.

Only Budon, moved by the lackey zeal of an upstart, shouted:

Please do not intervene unless asked!

And immediately he looked searchingly into the eyes of the important, mousey Great Dane.

“I’ve been there three times,” the poodle continued, “but my owner always came and took me from there (I work in the circus, and, you understand, they value me) ... So, sir, two or three hundred people gather in this unpleasant place at a time dogs...

Tell me, is there a decent society there? - the Italian greyhound asked coyly.

It happens. We were fed unusually poorly and little. From time to time, one of the prisoners disappeared to unknown destination, and then we dined on soup from...

To enhance the effect, the poodle paused briefly, looked around the audience and added with feigned composure:

- ...from dog meat.

At the last words, the company was horrified and indignant.

Damn it! What low meanness! - Jack exclaimed.

“I’m going to faint… I feel sick,” the Italian greyhound whispered.

This is terrible... terrible! - the dachshund moaned.

I always said that people are scoundrels! - the mousey Great Dane grumbled.

What a terrible death! - Bud sighed.

However, this soup is okay... not bad... although, of course, some ladies accustomed to chicken cutlets will find that the dog meat could be a little softer.

Ignoring this impudent remark, the poodle continued:

Subsequently, from a conversation with my master, I learned that the skin of our dead comrades was used to make ladies' gloves. But - prepare your nerves, mesdames - but this is not enough. To make the skin more tender and soft, it is torn off from a living dog.

Desperate cries interrupted the poodle's words:

What inhumanity!..

What baseness!

But this is incredible!

Oh my God, oh my God!

Executioners!..

No, worse than executioners...

After this outburst there was a tense and sad silence. The terrifying prospect of being flayed alive was pictured in the mind of every listener.

Gentlemen, is there really no way to once and for all free all honest dogs from shameful slavery among people? - Jack shouted passionately.

“Please indicate this remedy,” the old poodle said ironically.

The dogs thought.

Snack all the people and that's it! - the Great Dane blurted out in an embittered bass voice.

That’s right, sir, the most radical idea,” supported Buton obsequiously. - At the very least, they will be afraid.

Well... a snack... great, sir,” objected the old poodle. - What is your opinion, dear sir, regarding the arapniks? Do you deign to be familiar with them?

Hm... - the Great Dane cleared his throat.

Hm... - Bud repeated.

No, sir, I’ll tell you, my sir, we don’t have to fight people. I've been around the world a lot and I can say that I know life well... Let's take, for example, such simple things as a kennel, a trap, a chain and a muzzle - things, I think, that are well known to all of you, gentlemen?.. Suppose that We dogs will eventually figure out how to get rid of them... But won’t man immediately invent more improved tools? He will definitely invent it. You should see what kennels, chains and muzzles people build for each other! We must obey, gentlemen, that's all. This is the law of nature, sir.

“Well, I’ve lost my philosophy,” the dachshund said in Jack’s ear. - I can’t stand old people with their teachings.

Quite rightly, mademoiselle,” Jack gallantly waved his tail.

A mousey Great Dane with a melancholic look caught a fly in his mouth and said in a mournful voice:

Eh, life is a dog!..

But where is the justice here?” the Italian greyhound, who had been silent until now, suddenly became worried.
- At least you, Mr. Poodle... I’m sorry, I don’t have the honor to know the name...

Artaud, professor of balancing act, at your service,” the poodle bowed.

Well, tell me, Mr. Professor, you are apparently such an experienced dog, not to mention your scholarship; Tell me, where is the highest justice in all this? Are people really so much more worthy and better than us that they enjoy such cruel privileges with impunity...

“Not better or more worthy, dear young lady, but stronger and smarter,” Artaud objected bitterly. - ABOUT! I am well aware of the morality of these two-legged animals... Firstly, they are greedy, like no other dog in the world. They have so much bread, meat and water that all these monsters could be well fed for a lifetime. Meanwhile, some tenth of them have seized all the supplies of life into their own hands and, not being able to devour them themselves, force the remaining nine-tenths to starve. Well, pray tell, wouldn’t a well-fed dog give his neighbor a gnawed bone?

He will give, he will certainly give,” the listeners agreed.

Hm! - the Great Dane grunted doubtfully.

Besides, people are evil. Who can say that one dog kills another because of love, envy or anger? We bite sometimes - that's fair. But we don't take each other's lives.

Indeed it is, the listeners confirmed.

Tell me again,” the white poodle continued, “would one dog dare to forbid another dog from breathing fresh air and freely expressing its thoughts about the organization of canine happiness? And people do it!

Damn it! - the mousey Great Dane energetically inserted.

In conclusion, I will say that people are hypocritical, envious, deceitful, inhospitable and cruel... And yet people dominate and will dominate, because... because that is how it is already arranged. It is impossible to free yourself from their dominion... The whole dog's life, all the dog's happiness is in their hands. In our current situation, each of us who has a good master should thank fate. One owner can save us from the pleasure of eating the meat of our comrades and then feeling how he is being skinned alive.

The professor's words brought despondency to the community. No one else said a word. Everyone shook and swayed helplessly with the shocks of the cage. The dog whined in a plaintive voice. The bud, which was kept near him, howled quietly to him.

Soon the dogs felt that the wheels of their carriage were driving on the sand. Five minutes later the cage drove through a wide gate and found itself in the middle of a huge yard surrounded by a solid fence studded with nails at the top. Two hundred dogs, skinny, dirty, with drooping tails and sad faces, barely wandered around the yard.

The cage door opened. All seven dogs that had just arrived came out of it and, obeying instinct, huddled together.

Hey, listen, how are you there... hey, professor... - the poodle heard someone’s voice behind him.

He turned around: standing in front of him was a purple dog with the most impudent smile.

“Oh, please leave me alone,” the old poodle snapped. - I have no time for you.

No, I just have one remark... You said smart words in the cage, but still you made one mistake... Yes, sir.

Get the hell away from me, damn it! What other mistake is there?

And as for a dog’s happiness... Do you want me to show you now in whose hands a dog’s happiness is?

And suddenly, with his ears flattened and his tail stretched out, the purple dog rushed off at such a furious pace that the old balancing act professor just opened his mouth. “Catch him! Hold it!” - the guards shouted, rushing after the running dog.

But the purple dog was already near the fence. With one push, he jumped back from the ground and found himself at the top, hanging by his front paws. Two more convulsive movements, and the purple dog rolled over the fence, leaving a good half of his side on its nails.

The old white poodle looked after him for a long time. He realized his mistake.

Animal world

A. I. Kuprina

N\kl teacher

MKOU Secondary School No. 2, Alagir

Cheldieva M.K.

The world of animals in the works of Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin is amazing, unusual and original. Rarely has any artist so perfectly recreated their morals and characters, habits and loyalty to man.

Having gone through a number of various trials in childhood, forced to adapt to the cruel environment of the Orphan School, the cadet corps, and the cadet school, Kuprin retained in his soul the ability not to cause pain, retained the ability to sympathize and sympathize.

One of the writer’s friends recalled that he had never seen Kuprin pass by a dog on the street and not stop so as not to pet him. Kuprin created a whole series of stories about dogs: “White Poodle”, “Pirate”, “Dog’s Happiness”, “Barbos and Zhulka”, “Zaviraika”, “Barry”, “Balt”, “Ralph” and others.

While in exile in France, the writer often turns to the purest and most honest creatures in this world - children and animals. A.I. Kuprin once noticed that children in general are much closer to animals than adults think. Therefore, I recommend all these sad and funny stories about animals for study at school, which are perceived by students with special interest and sympathy. Kuprin's stories about animals convey something lofty, human, and kind...

Lesson Objectives

1. Fostering a kind and attentive attitude towards the animal world.

2. Formation of skills to navigate the text, draw conclusions and generalizations.

3. Development of children’s abilities to treat artistic words carefully and thoughtfully.

Lesson equipment

1. Portrait of A.I. Kuprina.

2. Book exhibition.

3. Illustrations for the writer’s works.

4. Electronic presentation.

5. Film based on the story by A.I. Kuprin "Balt".

Preliminary preparation

1. Reading Kuprin’s stories about animals.

2. Individual task for students: oral report about the writer.

3. Preparation of an electronic presentation.

During the classes:

1.Teacher's opening speech

At the beginning of the lesson, a melody from the TV show “In the Animal World” is played.

– Why did this particular melody sound? (Children's answers)

– Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin has more than 30 stories about animals. These stories, scattered across different publications, could make up a whole book. And today in class we will talk about the uniqueness of A.I.’s stories. Kuprin, dedicated to the animal world.

2. Student’s message about the writer

Many of A. I. Kuprin’s stories are devoted to the depiction of animals (mainly domestic ones).

The world of animals in the works of Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin is amazing, unusual and original. Rarely has any artist so perfectly recreated their original morals and characters, habits and loyalty to man. The writer loved and knew well the habits of many animals. According to L.V. Krutikova, A.I. Kuprin was a great “animal lover.”

Kuprin did not invent his stories about animals. All the animals he wrote about actually lived: many of them in Kuprin’s house, others with friends, and he learned about the fate of some from newspapers. Kuprin did a lot with the animals that lived with him: he trained them, treated them if they were sick, and saved them when they were in mortal danger. The famous tamer Anatoly Durov even wrote in his posters dedicated to the animals:

Kuprin himself is a writer
We had a friend with us .

“All our animals - dogs, horses, cats, goats, monkeys, bears and other animals - were family members,” recalled Kuprin’s daughter. “My father followed their lives and morals with tender and close attention.” Kuprin loved animals so much that he expressed regret that word artists began to pay less attention to depicting their lives.

“In 1930,” writes O.M. Mikhailov,” the writer said with sorrow to one of the journalists: “Have you noticed that now there are almost no dogs or horses left in literature?”

As if wanting to fill the gap, Kuprin, already seriously ill, in the last years of his life decided to write a whole book about animals, “Friends of Man.” But the writer did not have time to realize his plan. He created only one story from the planned cycle - “Ralph” (1934).

His stories about animals, scattered across various publications, could indeed form a whole book.

3. Working with illustrations drawn (selected) by children

Students take turns showing the illustrations to the whole class. It is necessary to determine what story the drawing was made for, what moment is depicted. Then confirm your assumption with a quotation. If one of the children illustrates the story “Balt”, they will be able to watch an excerpt from the film “Dangerous Arctic Adventure”.

4. Ideological and artistic analysis of the story “Zaviraika”

A.I. Kuprin was convinced that animals are distinguished by their memory, ability to distinguish time, space, sounds and even colors. They, in his opinion, have attachments and aversion, love and hatred, gratitude and appreciation, anger and humility, joy and grief. It is no coincidence that next to the title of the story “Zaviraika” he gave the subtitle: “The Soul of a Dog.”

Conversation on questions:

– Tell us about the narrator's first meeting with Zaviraika. (Children's answers)

– What leading traits of his character have already been outlined? (Response to kindness, firmness, trustfulness, insight)

– What portrait detail confirms this? (Eyes: “They didn’t run, didn’t blink, didn’t hide...asked me persistently...")

– What epithets did the author use to describe the dog’s appearance? (“Brilliantly black, with thick red markings, broad-chested, etc.)

– To what evaluative epithet do the marked means of expression lead? (“Excellent hound dog”)

– What epithets serve to express a generalizing characteristic? (“Smart and courageous”)

– Is there any reason to say that the author also has human relationships in mind when he writes about a dog? (Yes. In the story “Zaviraika,” Kuprin writes with delight about the meekness and purity of character of the hunting dog, who “showed such devoted friendship, such strength of good will and such intelligence that would do great honor to the average person.”Kuprin believes that it was not dark instinct, but a conscious mind, that forced Zaviraika to go looking for his “friend” (who fell into Patrashka’s trap).

5. Viewing the electronic presentation “The Animal World of Kuprin”

6. Summing up

– What do the stories of Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin teach? (Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin calls for unity between man and the animal world with his stories. His works foster feelings of man’s caring attitude towards nature).

7. Homework

Essay on the topic “The story that I liked the most.”

Dog happiness. Kuprin Fairy tale for children read

It was about six or seven o'clock on a good September morning when the one-and-a-half-year-old pointer Jack, a brown, long-eared, cheerful dog, went to the market with the cook Annushka. He knew the road perfectly and therefore confidently ran ahead all the time, sniffing the sidewalk curbs in passing and stopping at intersections to look back at the cook. Seeing confirmation in her face and gait, he resolutely turned around and started forward at a brisk gallop.

Having thus turned around the familiar sausage shop, Jack did not find Annushka. He rushed back so quickly that even his left ear curled up from his fast running. But Annushka was not visible from the nearby intersection. Then Jack decided to navigate by smell. He stopped and, carefully moving his wet, mobile nose in all directions, tried to catch in the air the familiar smell of Annushka’s dress, the smell of a dirty kitchen table and gray soap. But at that moment a woman walked past Jack with a hurried gait and, touching him on the side with her rustling skirt, left behind her a strong stream of disgusting Chinese perfume. Jack shook his head in annoyance and sneezed - Annushka’s trail was completely lost.

However, the pointer was not at all discouraged by this. He was well acquainted with the city and therefore could always very easily find his way home: he just had to run to the sausage shop, from the sausage shop to the greengrocer's, then turn left past a large gray house, from the basements of which there was always such a delicious smell of burnt butter - and he already on your street. But Jack was in no hurry. The morning was fresh, bright, and in the clean, softly transparent and slightly humid air, all shades of smells acquired extraordinary subtlety and distinctness. Running past the post office with his tail stretched out like a stick and his nostrils quivering, Jack could say with confidence that not more than a minute ago a large, mousey, middle-aged Great Dane, who was usually fed oatmeal, stopped here.
And indeed, after running two hundred steps, he saw this Great Dane, trotting at a sedate trot. The dog's ears were cropped short, and a wide, worn-out belt hung around his neck.

Dog noticed Jack and stopped, half turning back. Jack twirled his tail defiantly and began to slowly approach the stranger, pretending to be looking somewhere to the side. The mousey Great Dane did the same with his tail and showed his white teeth widely. Then they both growled, turning their muzzles away from each other and as if choking.
“If he says anything offensive to my honor or to the honor of all decent pointers in general, I will grab him in the side, near his left hind leg,” thought Jack. - Dog, of course, is stronger than me, but he is clumsy and stupid. Look, the idiot is standing sideways and doesn’t suspect that he has opened the entire left flank for attack.”

And suddenly... Something inexplicable, almost supernatural, happened. The mousey Great Dane suddenly fell onto his back, and some invisible force pulled him off the sidewalk. Following this, the same invisible force tightly engulfed the astonished Jack's throat... Jack planted his front legs and shook his head furiously. But an invisible “something” squeezed his neck so tightly that the brown pointer lost consciousness.
He came to his senses in a cramped iron cage, which was shaking on the stones of the pavement, rattling all its poorly screwed parts. From the pungent dog smell, Jack immediately guessed that the cage had been a home for dogs of all ages and breeds for many years. On the trestles in front of the cage sat two men of appearance that did not inspire any confidence.

A fairly large society has already gathered in the cage. First of all, Jack noticed a mousey Great Dane, with whom he almost quarreled on the street. The dog stood with his muzzle buried between two iron sticks and squealed pitifully, while his body swayed back and forth from the shaking. In the middle of the cage lay, with its intelligent muzzle stretched out between its rheumatic paws, an old white poodle, cut like a lion, with tassels on its knees and at the end of its tail. The poodle seemed to regard his situation with philosophical stoicism, and if he had not sighed occasionally and winked his eyebrows, one would have thought that he was sleeping. Sitting next to him, shivering from the morning cold and excitement, was a pretty, well-groomed Italian greyhound with long, thin legs and a sharp muzzle. From time to time she yawned nervously, curling her pink tongue like a tube and accompanying each yawn with a long, thin squeal... Closer to the rear end of the cage, a sleek black dachshund with yellow markings on its chest and eyebrows pressed tightly against the bars. She could not recover from the amazement that gave an unusually comical appearance to her long crocodile body on inverted low legs and her serious muzzle with her ears almost dragging along the floor.

In addition to this more or less secular company, there were two more undoubted mongrels in the cage. One of them, similar to those dogs that are universally called Buds and are distinguished by a base character, was shaggy, red and had a fluffy tail wrapped in the shape of the number 9. She got into the cage before everyone else and, apparently, became so comfortable with her exceptional position that she had long been looking for an opportunity to strike up an interesting conversation with someone. The last dog was almost invisible; he hid in the darkest corner and lay there, curled up in a ball. During the entire time, he only got up once to growl at Jack, who came close to him, but this was enough to arouse the strongest antipathy towards him in the entire casual society. Firstly, it was purple, which was smeared in it by a team of painters on their way to work. Secondly, the fur on it stood on end and in separate tufts. Third, he was obviously angry, hungry, brave and strong; this was reflected in the decisive push of his emaciated body with which he jumped up to meet the taken aback Jack.
The silence lasted for about a quarter of an hour. Finally, Jack, who never lost his sense of humor on any occasion in life, remarked in a foppish tone:
- The adventure is starting to get interesting. Curious where these gentlemen will make their first station?
The old poodle did not like the frivolous tone of the brown pointer. He slowly turned his head towards Jack and snapped with cold mockery:
- I can satisfy your curiosity, young man. Gentlemen will make a station in the knacker.
“What!.. Excuse me... I’m sorry... I didn’t hear,” Jack muttered, involuntarily sitting down, because his legs instantly began to tremble. - You deigned to say: in life...
“Yes, in the slaughterhouse,” the poodle confirmed just as coldly and turned away.
- Sorry... but I didn’t quite understand you... The knacker... What kind of institution is this - the knacker? Would you be so kind as to explain yourself?
The poodle was silent. But since the Italian greyhound and the dachshund joined Jack’s request, the old man, not wanting to be impolite in front of the ladies, had to give some details.
- This, you see, is mesdames, such a large yard, surrounded by a high, pointed fence, where dogs caught on the streets are locked up. I had the misfortune to end up in this place three times.

What a surprise! - a hoarse voice was heard from a dark corner. - This is my seventh time going there.
Undoubtedly, the voice coming from the corner belonged to the purple dog. The society was shocked by the interference of this torn personality in the conversation and therefore pretended not to hear her remarks. Only Budon, moved by the lackey zeal of an upstart, shouted:
- Please do not interfere unless asked!
And immediately he looked searchingly into the eyes of the important, mousey Great Dane.
“I’ve been there three times,” the poodle continued, “but my master always came and took me from there (I work in the circus, and, you understand, they value me) ... So, sir, two hundred or two hundred people gather in this unpleasant place at a time.” three dogs...
- Tell me, is there a decent society there? - the Italian greyhound asked coyly.
- It happens. We were fed unusually poorly and little. From time to time, one of the prisoners disappeared to unknown destination, and then we dined on soup from...
To enhance the effect, the poodle paused briefly, looked around the audience and added with feigned composure:
- ...from dog meat.
At the last words, the company was horrified and indignant.
- Damn it! What low meanness! - Jack exclaimed.
“I’m about to faint... I feel sick,” the Italian greyhound whispered.
- This is terrible... terrible! - the dachshund moaned.
- I always said that people are scoundrels! - the mousey Great Dane grumbled.
- What a terrible death! - Bud sighed.
And only one voice of the purple dog sounded from its dark corner with a gloomy and cynical mockery:
- However, this soup is okay... not bad... although, of course, some ladies who are accustomed to chicken cutlets will find that dog meat could be a little softer.
Ignoring this impudent remark, the poodle continued:
- Subsequently, from a conversation with my master, I learned that the skin of our dead comrades was used to make ladies' gloves. But - prepare your nerves, mesdames - but this is not enough. To make the skin more tender and soft, it is torn off from a living dog.
Desperate cries interrupted the poodle's words:
- What inhumanity!..
- What baseness!
- But this is incredible!
- Oh my God, oh my God!
- Executioners!..
- No, worse than executioners...
After this outburst there was a tense and sad silence. The terrifying prospect of being flayed alive was pictured in the mind of every listener.
- Gentlemen, is there really no way to once and for all free all honest dogs from shameful slavery among people? - Jack shouted passionately.
“Please indicate this remedy,” said the old poodle ironically.
The dogs thought.
- Have a bite of all the people, and that’s it! - the Great Dane blurted out in an embittered bass voice.
“That’s right, sir, the most radical idea,” supported Buton obsequiously. - At the very least, they will be afraid.
“Well, sir... a snack... great, sir,” objected the old poodle. - What is your opinion, dear sir, regarding the arapniks? Do you deign to be familiar with them?
“Hm…” the Great Dane cleared his throat.
“Hm…” Bud repeated.
- No, sir, I’ll tell you, my sir, we don’t have to fight people. I've been around the world a lot and I can say that I know life well... Let's take, for example, such simple things as a kennel, a trap, a chain and a muzzle - things, I think, that are well known to all of you, gentlemen?.. Suppose that We dogs will eventually figure out how to get rid of them... But won’t man immediately invent more improved tools? He will definitely invent it. You should see what kennels, chains and muzzles people build for each other! We must obey, gentlemen, that's all. This is the law of nature, sir.
“Well, he’s spoiled philosophy,” the dachshund said in Jack’s ear. “I can’t stand old people with their teachings.”
“Quite rightly, mademoiselle,” Jack gallantly waved his tail.
A mousey Great Dane with a melancholic look caught a fly in his mouth and said in a mournful voice:
- Eh, life is a dog!..
“But where is the justice here,” the Italian Greyhound, who had been silent until now, suddenly became worried. “At least you, Mr. Poodle... I’m sorry, I don’t have the honor to know the name...”
“Artaud, professor of balancing act, at your service,” the poodle bowed.
- Well, tell me, Mr. Professor, you are apparently such an experienced dog, not to mention your scholarship; Tell me, where is the highest justice in all this? Are people really so much more worthy and better than us that they enjoy such cruel privileges with impunity...
“Not better and not more worthy, dear young lady, but stronger and smarter,” Artaud objected bitterly. “Oh!” I know very well the morality of these two-legged animals... Firstly, they are greedy, like no other dog in the world. They have so much bread, meat and water that all these monsters could be well fed for a lifetime. Meanwhile, some tenth of them have seized all the supplies of life into their own hands and, not being able to devour them themselves, force the remaining nine-tenths to starve. Well, pray tell, wouldn’t a well-fed dog give his neighbor a gnawed bone?
“He will give, he will certainly give,” the listeners agreed.
- Hm! - the Great Dane grunted doubtfully.
-Besides, people are angry. Who can say that one dog kills another because of love, envy or anger? We bite sometimes - that's fair. But we don't take each other's lives.
“It’s true,” the listeners confirmed.
“Tell me again,” the white poodle continued, “would one dog dare to forbid another dog from breathing fresh air and freely expressing its thoughts about the organization of canine happiness?” And people do it!
- Damn it! - the mousey Great Dane energetically inserted.
- In conclusion, I will say that people are hypocritical, envious, deceitful, inhospitable and cruel... And yet people dominate and will dominate, because... because that’s how it’s already arranged. It is impossible to free yourself from their dominion... The whole dog's life, all the dog's happiness is in their hands. In our current situation, each of us who has a good master should thank fate. One owner can save us from the pleasure of eating the meat of our comrades and then feeling how he is being skinned alive.
The professor's words brought despondency to the community. No one else said a word. Everyone shook and swayed helplessly with the shocks of the cage. The dog whined in a plaintive voice. The bud, which was kept near him, howled quietly to him.
Soon the dogs felt that the wheels of their carriage were driving on the sand. Five minutes later the cage drove through a wide gate and found itself in the middle of a huge yard surrounded by a solid fence studded with nails at the top. Two hundred dogs, skinny, dirty, with drooping tails and sad faces, barely wandered around the yard.

The cage door opened. All seven dogs that had just arrived came out of it and, obeying instinct, huddled together.
“Hey, listen, how are you there... hey, professor...” the poodle heard someone’s voice behind him.
He turned around: standing in front of him was a purple dog with the most impudent smile.
“Oh, please leave me alone,” the old poodle snapped. - I have no time for you.
- No, I just have one remark... You said smart words in the cage, but still you made one mistake... Yes, sir.
- Get away from me, damn it! What other mistake is there?

And as for a dog’s happiness... Do you want me to show you now in whose hands a dog’s happiness is?
And suddenly, with his ears flattened and his tail stretched out, the purple dog rushed off at such a furious pace that the old balancing act professor just opened his mouth. “Catch him! Hold it!” - the guards shouted, rushing after the running dog.
But the purple dog was already near the fence. With one push, he jumped back from the ground and found himself at the top, hanging by his front paws. Two more convulsive movements, and the purple dog rolled over the fence, leaving a good half of his side on its nails.
The old white poodle looked after him for a long time. He realized his mistake.