Canine Athletes and Couch Pet-atos

The Smuggler

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Next to it in the drawer were a prayer book and a paper icon. We had no children for a long time. We even went to the hospital. We went, first by bus up to Tiraspol, then by train to Kiev, and we started looking for this monastery. We lit some candles and bought this icon.

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Just four rubles for such a powerful thing! What do you think? The lookers showed no reaction to the compliment; they must have heard this story many times. Each was graced with heavy eyebrows joined at the top of the nose and a pair of large bovine eyes. He wiped his lips with a homespun towel and, heavy with food, pushed himself away from the table.

We walked forward through the house and into a dim room hung with Turkish rugs. Sheepskins were piled up in a corner. In a couple of minutes I heard his monotonous, businesslike snoring. I went on turning over the sheepskins. Pavel lay asleep across the ottoman. His eyeglasses had slid down the bridge of his nose and settled on its tip.

One more step

I stuffed my sheepskins into bags and, leaving the money next to him on the pillow, exited into the lane through the backyard. The very fact that my life path has led from my childhood all the way to the Kolosovs proves that I must believe in something. In fate, for example. I asked a question then, but I have to date received no answer. The simile was flawed, but it worked for me. The bus vibrated as it entered the city. Peasants sat dormant around me. The hull of a highrise under construction flashed by in the window.

There were exactly nine floors. The top floors still wore scaffolding, but a political placard was already affixed to the roof. To be sure, it showed the Leader of the Revolution, and the slogan above his outstretched arm read in large crimson lettering: I continued uphill at a sprightly and independent pace. Lenin Street was five or six short blocks away. It was flooded with streetlights, glowing in the distance. I turned and saw its owner, a tall bozo in baggy sweatpants and a quilted jacket.

A revolver, I thought. Sizing up the uphill lane, I ran. I was afraid and seemed slow to myself. For the first time in my life I was being pursued, an unpleasant sensation. A major portion of my strength went into balancing the sheepskin load. Should I drop the bags? I had had a training partner in my athletic childhood: She almost always won, although I was every bit as good as her as a runner.

When I stopped the lane was again dark and empty, like a spyglass aimed at a distant stretch of asphalt. A mangy cat stood by the familiarly locked supermarket door. I sat down on the doorstep and motioned for the cat to come closer. She arched her skinny back and rubbed herself against my knee. She sat down by me, a plain gray feline with clever eyes that had seen a great deal in this life. Why does one feel so much at ease with animals?

Because they have faith. Without even knowing it. As I approached my house I saw Sasha in front of it, a bread loaf in his hand. I told him about my misadventures. I have to go to Moscow for my visa, take care of this and that. But I wanted to say goodbye.

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As we embraced, I remarked a drugstore vacancy notice fluttering in the wind behind his shoulder: They had now stopped issuing exit visas to Christians. On the other hand, the Australians were suddenly being active. They mostly accepted young people with good professions. Programmers, construction engineers, nurses and pharmacists were in demand. One night I boarded a trolleybus and rode it in circles, from one end of the route to the other and back, just for fun.

I wanted to say goodbye to the city where I had grown up. All I needed was some hope of life ahead, of new people and new poems. Why, I wondered, do I always feel that everything that is going on is mere preparation and that true life will come once I am duly prepared? I was thinking, I will emigrate, a new, real life will begin. And before that I used to think, I will graduate from college and a new life will begin. What if these thoughts were a mistake?

Or was I extrapolating again? A young girl with a dog boarded the trolleybus, sat down and began staring through the window. The dog was also staring through the window. Where were they going at such an hour? The clock in the square in front of the railroad station marked a time long past. I recalled my first foray into God-seeking. It had come spontaneously. When I was eight, I happened to read a book published before the Revolution. I forget the title and the author. It was the story of an orphan girl who grew up in a family that belonged to the Old Believer sect.

I was too young to understand the ideological purpose of the narrative, all I cared about was the plot. Then one day the dog died, and it got me thinking. There were many people of faith among our neighbors.

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I decided to try my luck. My dog was definitely without sin. He may have gnawed a couple of my shoes to bits, but I had long forgiven him. I climbed the drainpipe all the way to the church roof and, waiting till dark for the sake of greater certainty, I asked that my dog be returned to me. Below me, a server lady emerged backwards out of the beerhouse, wheeling behind her a container full of empty beer bottles. Then she disappeared behind the back door, only to emerge again in a crimplene jacket and with a string-bag jangling with beer bottles that were full.

Another half an hour later, a group of Gypsies with an accordion walked by the church. One of them saw me. As they receded, I saw their hair glow in the liquid streetlamp light. I slid down the drainpipe, cutting my palm with a steel nail. The scar is still there. She was one year younger than me, but I always felt as if she were older. In general, she was the quiet sort. Most of my family still lives in Nebraska.

My dad's side of the family are farmers hailing from Union, Nebraska. The only exception to my Nebraska-bound ilk are my rad aunt and uncle - Jane and Bob - who live in Kauai. Their support of my speed skating dreams is second only to my parents. My parents have been my number one fans from day one.

They have always been supportive and never forced me to go to practice. My mom made the move with me full-time while my dad continued to work as a firefighter in Omaha. He would work hour shifts, every other day, for ten days - and then have six straight days off. For those six days, he would drive from Omaha to Milwaukee to stay with my Mom and me. We lived with that routine from the day we moved until after I graduated high school.

My parents, to this day, still help support me financially. They keep putting things in their lives on hold so I don't have to worry about paying rent. As far as I'm concerned, they have paid for that logo a million times over. Unofficially, I bake and sell biscotti to raise funds for myself. I found a recipe and cranked out a batch. After they came out of the oven and I took a few Instagram-worthy photos, it dawned on me that I could try to sell these in an effort to raise money for myself. It is not a business by any means, but it has proven mildly profitable. And people seem to like them enough to come back for more.

What time do you wake up? How much, and when, do you sleep each day during training? I sleep hours each night and I am a big fan of naps, especially power naps.

My teammates joke about how good at sleeping I am. I can and will sleep anywhere when I'm tired and I can fall asleep surprisingly fast. A typical day varies depending on where in the year we are. From May-October is when we do the most volume in order to build a strong base for our competitive season. A typical day during this time looks like this:. Wake up at 6 am. Make breakfast, make coffee, water plants, pack a lunch, pack all necessary gear for the day.

Leave at 7 am. Drive to the Utah Olympic Oval. Drop bag and lunch in locker room, put on heart rate monitor, pull up a playlist, throw on headphones. Begin warming up by 7: Give yourself at least ten minutes to wrestle your sweaty body into your skinsuit. On ice at 9 am. Warm-up on ice until 9: Coach goes over the workout, brings it in for a U-S-A on 3. Begin speed skating intervals. Eat a Cliff bar. Finish speed skating intervals.

Off ice around Cool down on the bike for 10 minutes. Pop into the weight room for 15 minutes to run through pre-hab exercises. Grab part of packed lunch and head to the training room to see Fikre, your physio, for ice or cupping or stim or general re-hab. Head back to the locker room to finish lunch on the couch with legs up.

Crank out a power nap. Wander up to the US Speedskating offices to chit chat with random staff. Begin warming up for weights at 1: Pump iron until 3: Race back to the locker room to grab your hockey skates and head to the ice for bandy. Play your heart out because it's your favorite workout until 4: Collapse in the training room, tell Fikre you're ready for your treatment and you think you'll just sleep here on this table tonight.

Eat the Cliff bar with the most protein. Take an ice bath. Waddle out of the Utah Olympic Oval by 5 pm. Realize you're still wearing your heart rate monitor. Probably stop at the grocery store, the one you're sponsored by. Arrive home by 6 pm. Make popcorn on the stove because you're too lazy to make dinner.

Eat popcorn on the couch and watch Netflix. Eat dinner on the couch and watch Netflix. Maybe take a shower. By staying focused and positive.

What can I do to prevent this in the future?

Many of them were in pain not only psychologically, but physically as well. Due to the constantly awaiting dangers everywhere, we have dogs with missing fingers, twistedly healed paws, twisted jaws, and tics, regularly unfed and more than stressed. Therefore now we would like to find them the most suitable homes in which they would find happiness, love, and joy from games with ball, doggy treats, regular feeding and free running, warm beds.

Because during their short stay with us, these unlucky creatures have surprised us with their tenderness and appreciation. Even though they have communicated so little with humans in the last few years, the Kremikovtsi dogs are a living proof that the dog is born to love the human! We are warning that the age we give them is extremely approximate, because due to the bad feeding, their teeth are in very bad condition and it is hard to decide on their exact age. Jivko is 1 year old and is son Of Lilly, who is also with us.

He does not stop dancing and jumping around which made it harder for us to take a photo of him. He is very good-hearted and loveable. Pedro is about 6 months old and is in the factory since recently. He is small, and would not grow much — he would be 15kilos at most. With a slightly twisted jaw, turned-up nose, he feeds so well that he looks like a pregnant bug. In the factory we called her Boney, because she looked like a bag full of bones.

She still needs more feeding. At this stage she is afraid and mistrustful to people, but she would relax. She is also small of stature. Sutton and Ethan were born on 1 st of July and are another pair of cardboard puppies who ended up with us. We are not going to tell you how, when or why someone has decided that they are unwanted. We are going to describe them the way they are now — extremely adorable and nice, very playful and full of energy and never ending curiosity. Typical kiddos who need much more attention than the one they get in a shelter full of more dogs.

Now, while they are still young and susceptible for education. Just look at the eyes they possess! Paloma and Wade are also with us since the summer. They were born on July 14 th and are no less spectacular siblings. These sweethearts can be found in Bogrov shelter. I present to you, a very charming and memorable family — the sisters — Heart, Spade and Club. Born on 28 th of ostober You already know that the stories of most bulgarian dogs are identical. Here is another proof for this. This is how our heroes were born. Apparently, the mother was a Husky, and the father — a friendly stray dog.

Well, if you had neutered your dog on time, this situation would not be possible, right!? And this is how the fight for survival for these unlucky pups starts. She feeds them with a nursing bottle a couple of times a day, consults with friends, looks for a home for when they grow up, keeps them warm and dry. She rescues them from their ridiculous destiny and she commits them in our hands. Anyone, who has interest in them, can come on the spot in Bogrov shelter and meet personally these wonderful puppies, who drew our the lucky card in life.

We remind you, that neutereing is free in Bogrov shelter for your pets at home, and for stray dogs and cats. Although sad their story is very well-known and we see how it repeats over and over again in different parts of the country. They met in a hot and beautiful summer day and here we go. Two months later those beautiful babies were born in the street. They were well cared and protected by their mother until one day everything changed. Cruel people throw poison in the neighborhood that took away their mother. They were too tired to cry or hope for rescue.

But she decided to give them a second chance for life. She took them in her home and gave her best to save them. And she did it!

She cared for them until they grow up a little and some space was freed in the shelter so we were able to take them. Now, a few months later, those cute and wonderful puppies are ready for new and happy life. And they know that they will get it. Because they were rescued for a reason, right? After we introduced to you some of our beautiful ladies and heart-breaking Don Juans, it is time for you to meet part of the merriest inhabitants of Bogrov shelter.

They are 17, all of age around 1 year. The Happy band Distinguishing marks: Smart, Imaginative, Loyal, Playful, Enchanting. Captivating hearts In search of: The Ringleaders — Atos and Aramis — Neutered and vaccinated. The fearless brothers Atos and Aramis are the band leaders. They are known for their quick mind, lolling tongues and infinite ideas for new adventures. Always ready for an escapade they will charm you with their vitality and love to life and people. Arizona — 1 years old. Arizona is so noiseless that she can sneak everywhere. But yet if you notice her she turns into one little shy girl that captures your attention securing her band friends the perfect cover.

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