Storytelling for kids with pictures
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Leah, Emmie and Tim are going trick-or-treating... but they don't count on encountering some spooky Halloween cats!
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The people of Hamelin are happy. Until one day, a horde of multicoloured butterflies descend upon the town.
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Koah Koala is having his first birthday! He's about to discover how fun it is to be One!
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Baxter the Puppy loses his beloved Oliver in Paris.
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Making friends is pretty hard for a friendly shark with a toothy smile. But he's going to try!
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A story about the beauty and love your special light can bring to others, and how it spreads from one person to everyone!
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Animals live in all sorts of homes.
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Leah is trying to think of the best present in the world for her mother. Her whole family is here to help her think of the perfect gift!
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Some mummies help us, and some mummies love us. What does your mummy do?
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10 Must Read Moral Stories For Kids With Pictures in 2021
Have you noticed how little children love to tell stories? They can spin their own tales with ease, and they put together almost everything they hear or see, in one single tale.
The more we listen the more they tell. This is because they love stories. They learn and retain better when it is in a story format. The minute you tell them “It’s story time” you can see the excitement in them and they get impatient for the story to start. Once you start narrating, they will be engrossed and will absorb every single detail you tell.
Elly@Home – the home-schooling module by Little Elly has made story telling an integral part of their curriculum. Elly@Home has a diversified curriculum which not only covers good ground in terms of educating a small child, but it does so in a fun and interesting manner too. Activities are done in class (virtual), sent home to encourage the child to explore and learn in their own time while moral stories for kids are told to keep the child entertained and to teach them morals in an interesting manner. Elly@Home has beautifully brought together Little Elly’s experience in handling small children in physical school to virtual learning, in a neat little package for young children.
In This Article
- Importance of Storytelling
- 10 Interesting Moral Stories For Kids
Importance of Storytelling
When you tell a story to a child, the child tends to recall even the tiniest of details with great clarity. They make their own inference from the story. Therefore moral stories for children have been a big hit for generations.
Today with the increasing use of gadgets and screen time, the book reading habit has been dying a slow death. Many authors and publishers have come up with a variety of tales to pique the interest in kids for books.
When it comes to storytelling, the more dramatic the storytelling is, the more the child will love it. It is not just reading or paraphrasing from a book. Elly@Home ensures its storytelling sessions for the kids are as entertaining and eventful as possible.
Elly@Home podcasts for story time are very entertaining and are mostly nature based. Children love nature – animals, trees, earth, etc.
When you narrate tales with morals to these young minds, they grasp it fast and hard. This helps in shaping them and providing the world with a generation of thoughtful minds. The moral stories for kids work much better than the parents just “talking” or preaching a particular behavior to the child.
[Read : Advantages Of Reading Stories For Kids]
10 Interesting Moral Stories For Kids
There are a number of moral stories in English books and online with important morals to teach a child. However, some may not make sense and some may not be apt for young minds. It is the parents’ and teachers’ responsibilities, to read, verify and finalize a list of books that is suitable for a small child.
We have filtered out 10 such stories with important and inspiring morals that can add great value to a child.
When the story is inspiring, the child wants to follow those steps. This helps parents and teachers mould them into great human beings.
1. The Monkey and the Crocodile
(Source)
This is a classic short moral story for kids in English about two friends – a crocodile and a monkey. The story tells us about how a crocodile, despite being friends with the monkey, tries to eat it, and how the monkey uses its presence of mind to escape. When the crocodile takes the monkey away on its back, in the pretence of inviting it home, it reveals the real intention behind the invitation – to eat the monkey. The monkey, instead of panicking, uses its presence of mind and gets away from the crocodile.
The story teaches the children how not to blindly trust someone and to be street smart when in trouble. It is important for children to understand from a young age that they need to “think” when in trouble and not just freeze in panic.
Moral – A Quick Wit can Solve Problems
2.
The Elephants and the Mice(Source)
This is a well illustrated short moral story for kids about the big and small creatures. The story is about how the little mice help elephants and show size does not matter. A group of elephants are stuck in a net and the mice help free them. Despite being tiny and mocked by bigger animals, the mice prove to be useful when the time comes.
This teaches the children that being big or small does not matter and they can still help others. This is an important lesson for children – to understand that just because they are bigger or smaller than other children, does not determine their true worth. It also shows them the importance of friendship and how one should always help a friend in need.
Moral – A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed
3. The Foolish Thief
(Source)
This is a story about a thief who steals a goat from a house and then two days later steals a cow too. The owners of the house trick the thief to believe there is lot of unattended gold in the house.
Without realizing it is a trap, the foolish thief enters the house to steal but gets caught instead. This teaches the children two things – stealing is bad and if you think smart, you can trap the thief.
Moral – Smart Thinking Can Save the Day
4. Two Frogs With the Same Problem
(Source)
This is a story about two frogs that got trapped in a deep pit and were unable to come up. While other frogs were discouraging, one of the frogs refused to give up. One frog gave up and accepted defeat while the other frog kept trying and eventually jumped out successfully.
The thought of the day for kids in this story is to never give up and keep trying despite others’ discouragement. In today’s world, where many try to discourage others from succeeding, it is important to teach young children that they should never give up without a fight, and they can succeed if they put in the hard work.
Moral – Try Hard and Never Give Up
5.
The Potato, The Egg, and The Coffee Bean(Source)
This is a beautiful story explaining how a problem can change you and the result depends on how you respond to the problem. A father shows his son how a potato, egg and coffee bean react differently to the same problem – hot water. The texture of each of the items changes once they are exposed to boiling water.
This short moral story teaches children the outcome of a problem can be different if they react differently to it. Many times even we adults forget our reaction to a situation can impact the final outcome while the end result may be in our hands.
Moral – The Way you React or Respond to a Situation can Result in Different Outcomes.
6. The Milkmaid and Her Pail
(Source)
This is a fresh children stories’ version of the old saying – “don’t count your chickens before they hatch”. The story is about a milkmaid who daydreams about what she would do with all the money she can earn from selling the milk in the future and forgets the present.
This results in all her milk going to waste. This teaches the children to focus on the present and not just drift away dreaming.
Moral – Focus on the Process Rather Than the End Result Alone.
7. The Elephant Circus
(Source)
This is a story about five elephants that are held captive in a circus to do tricks and entertain people. The elephants are tied up with a weak rope, which could’ve been easily broken, if only they had tried. Instead, they believe they are weak and cannot do anything about their situation and never try to break free.
This simple short story in English tells children not to give up without trying first. Today, societal pressure is very high for both young and old children. What people say can have a deep impact on a child’s mind and shape their character. This story encourages children to not believe what others say about them and motivates them to try and break free from societal pressure and beliefs.
Though a very young child may not understand the story or it’s morals, it can be a good value addition to a little older child.
We parents and teachers must tell the children they are more than what society thinks of them.
Moral – Believe in Yourself Than What the Society Tells About You
8. The Boy Who Cried Wolf
(Source)
This is an interesting story about a boy who loves to fool others. A shepherd boy who used to take a flock of sheep to the forest to graze pretends to be in danger and cries for help. The people come running to help him – twice. Then they realize he is a liar and does not turn back to help him when he cries for help the third time. This time he is really in trouble and needs help but because he lost people’s trust, he doesn’t get any help in time.
Young children love to pretend to play and don’t know where to draw the line. You might have noticed how they come up with wild stories about a dangerous situation around them and how they got out, etc. Children love to get creative and test their limits in every angle. This is their way of growing up and understanding boundaries.
This story tells them how people will stop believing you if you lie constantly and it will hurt you in the end.
Moral – No One Will Believe Liars Even When They Tell the Truth
9. The Golden Touch of Midas
An old classic tale about a greedy king. A king who is greedy and loves gold asks a fairy for a wish that whatever he touches would turn into gold. Once his wish is granted, he is overjoyed and touches everything around him, and surrounds himself with gold. Until he sits down to eat, he doesn’t realize there are things more important than gold and riches. When he touches his daughter and she turns into a gold statue, he understands how greed can harm you and your loved ones around you.
This is an inspirational moral story that tells children to not be greedy, rather than directly preach it to them. They get excited till the part in the story where everything turns into gold like magic and when the little daughter also turns into gold, it gets personal for them and impacts them.
This lesson about greed will stay with them longer through this story than us adults repeatedly telling them – it is bad to be greedy.
Moral – Never be Greedy
10. The Three Little Pigs
A very entertaining picture moral story for kids about three pigs that leave home to build their own houses and how they learn to fend off their enemy- the wolf. While two pigs find the easy way out to build a house and use the time to play, the third pig puts in hard work and spends time building a sturdy house.
The interesting illustrations of the wolf huffing and puffing to blow away the houses is loved by children. Through this story they learn what is strong and what is not and who the pig’s enemy is. The important lesson they learn is about hard work.
Children love to play and if they can finish work early to get more play time, they would do it. This story tells them how that is not the right thing to do and one has to put in effort for lasting results.
Moral – Hard Work Pays
[Read : The Power of Children’s Picture Books]
When stories are narrated with actions, right emotions and props, children understand better and remember the stories for a long time to come. A story becomes their favorite not only because of the characters in it or what the story is about, but also because of the way it is told to them.
Storytelling is a very impactful way to teach values to young minds and Elly@Home does just that. It has interesting stories in its kitty, which are narrated using interesting techniques and variety, which the children love. Put your child in front of the screen for a storytelling session by Elly@Home and you will be amazed by how much they grasp and how they give you that highly carved “quiet time”.
These story sessions are more interactive, fun and helpful than just showing videos on the screen.
Read Also: Homeschooling : Pros and Cons
Bulka's story, Leo Tolstoy - read for children online
I had an attractive face.
.. Her name was Bulka. She was all black, only the tips of her front paws were white.
In all muzzles, the lower jaw is longer than the upper and the upper teeth extend beyond the lower; but Bulka's lower jaw protruded so far forward that a finger could be placed between the lower and upper teeth. Bulka's face was broad; the eyes are large, black and shiny; and white teeth and fangs always stuck out. He looked like an arap. Bulka was quiet and did not bite, but he was very strong and tenacious. When he used to cling to something, he would grit his teeth and hang like a rag, and he, like a tick, could not be torn off in any way.
Once he was launched at a bear, and he grabbed the bear's ear and hung like a leech. The bear beat him with his paws, pressed him to himself, threw him from side to side, but could not tear him off and fell on his head to crush Bulka; but Bulka kept on him until they poured cold water on him.
I adopted him as a puppy and nursed him myself. When I went to serve in the Caucasus, I did not want to take him and left him quietly, and ordered him to be locked up.
At the first station, I was about to sit down on another sling, when I suddenly saw that something black and shiny was rolling along the road. It was Bulka in his copper collar. He flew at full speed to the station. He rushed towards me, licked my hand and stretched out in the shade under the cart. His tongue stuck out to the palm of his hand. He then pulled it back, swallowing saliva, then again stuck it out on a whole palm. He was in a hurry, did not keep up with breathing, his sides were jumping. He turned from side to side and tapped his tail on the ground.
I found out later that after me he broke through the frame and jumped out of the window and, right in my wake, galloped along the road and galloped about twenty versts in the heat.
Once in the Caucasus we went hunting for wild boars, and Bulka came running with me. As soon as the hounds drove off, Bulka rushed to their voice and disappeared into the forest. It was in the month of November: wild boars and pigs then are very fat.
In the Caucasus, in the forests where wild boars live, there are many tasty fruits: wild grapes, cones, apples, pears, blackberries, acorns, blackthorn. And when all these fruits ripen and are touched by frost, the boars eat up and grow fat.
At that time, the boar is so fat that it can not run under the dogs for long. When he is chased for two hours, he hides in a thicket and stops. Then the hunters run to the place where he is standing and shoot. By the barking of dogs, you can know whether the boar has stopped or is running. If he runs, then the dogs bark with a squeal, as if they were being beaten; and if he is standing, then they bark, as if at a person, and howl.
During this hunt, I ran through the forest for a long time, but not once did I manage to cross the path of a wild boar. Finally, I heard the long-drawn-out barking and howling of the hounds and ran to that place. I was already close to the boar. I've already heard more crackling noises. It was a boar tossing and turning with dogs.
But it was heard by barking that they did not take him, but only circled around. Suddenly I heard something rustling behind me and saw Bulka. He apparently lost the hounds in the forest and got confused, and now he heard their barking and, just like me, that was the spirit rolled in that direction. He ran through the clearing, along the tall grass, and all I could see from him was his black head and bitten tongue in his white teeth. I called out to him, but he did not look back, overtook me and disappeared into the thicket. I ran after him, but the farther I went, the forest became more and more often. The knots knocked off my hat, hit me in the face, the needles of the blackthorn clung to my dress. I was already close to barking, but I couldn't see anything.
Suddenly I heard that the dogs barked louder, something crackled violently, and the boar began to puff and wheeze. I thought that now Bulka got to him and was messing with him. With the last of my strength, I ran through the thicket to that place.
In the most remote thicket I saw a motley hound. She barked and howled in one place, and something blackened and fussed about three steps away from her.
When I moved closer, I examined the boar and heard that Bulka squealed piercingly. The boar grunted and poked at the hound - the hound tucked its tail and jumped away. I could see the side of the boar and his head. I aimed to the side and fired. I saw that it hit. The boar grunted and crackled away from me more often. The dogs squealed and barked after him, and more often I rushed after them. Suddenly, almost under my feet, I saw and heard something. It was Bulka. He lay on his side and squealed. There was a pool of blood underneath. I thought, "The dog is missing"; but now I was not up to it, I was breaking further. Soon I saw a boar. The dogs grabbed him from behind, and he turned first to one side, then to the other. When the boar saw me, he leaned towards me. I fired another time, almost at point-blank range, so that the bristles on the boar caught fire, and the boar wheezed, staggered, and slammed his whole carcass heavily to the ground.
When I approached, the boar was already dead, and only here and there it was swollen and twitching. But the dogs, bristling, some tore at his belly and legs, while others lapped up the blood from the wound.
Then I remembered Bulka and went to look for him. He crawled towards me and groaned. I went up to him, sat down and looked at his wound. His stomach was torn open, and a whole lump of intestines from his stomach dragged along the dry leaves. When the comrades approached me, we set Bulka's intestines and sewed up his stomach. While they sewed up the stomach and pierced the skin, he kept licking my hands.
The boar was tied to the horse's tail to be taken out of the forest, and Bulka was put on the horse and so they brought him home.
Bulka was ill for six weeks and recovered. In the Caucasus, wild chickens are called pheasants. There are so many of them that they are cheaper than domestic chicken. Pheasants are hunted with a filly, from a decoy and from under a dog.
This is how they hunt with a filly: they take canvas, stretch it over a frame, make a crossbar in the middle of the frame, and make a hole in the canvas. This canvas frame is called a filly. With this filly and with a gun at dawn they go out into the forest. They carry the filly in front of them and look out for pheasants in the gap. Pheasants feed at dawn in the clearings; sometimes a whole brood - a hen with chickens, sometimes a rooster with a hen, sometimes several roosters together.
Pheasants do not see a person and are not afraid of canvas and let them get close to them. Then the hunter puts down the filly, sticks the gun out of the hole and shoots at will.
This is how they hunt from a bait: they let a yard dog into the forest and follow it. When the dog finds the pheasant, it will rush after it.
The pheasant will fly up the tree, and then the little dog will start barking at him. The hunter approaches the barking and shoots the pheasant in the tree.
This hunt would be easy if the pheasant perched on a tree in a clean place and sat right on the tree - so that he could be seen. But pheasants always sit on thick trees, in the thicket, and when they see the hunter, they hide in the knots. And it can be difficult to climb into the thicket to the tree where the pheasant sits, and it is difficult to see it. When a dog alone barks at a pheasant, he is not afraid of her, sits on a branch and still cocks at her and flaps her wings. But as soon as he sees a person, he immediately stretches out along a branch, so that only an accustomed hunter will distinguish him, and an unusual one will stand nearby and see nothing.
When the Cossacks sneak up on the pheasants, they pull their hats over their faces and do not look up, because the pheasant is afraid of the man with the gun, and most of all is afraid of his eyes.
This is how they hunt from under a dog: they take a pointing dog and follow it through the forest. The dog will sense by instinct where the pheasants walked and fed at dawn, and will begin to make out their tracks.
And no matter how much the pheasants mess up, a good dog will always find the last trace, the exit from the place where they fed. The further the dog follows the trail, the stronger it will smell, and so it will reach the place where a pheasant sits in the grass during the day or walks. When she comes close, then it will seem to her that the pheasant is already there, right in front of her, and she will keep walking more carefully so as not to frighten him away, and will stop to immediately jump and catch him. When the dog comes very close, then the pheasant flies out, and the hunter shoots. I got myself a setter dog for the pheasants.
This dog's name was Milton: it was tall, thin, speckled in grey, with long beaks and ears, and very strong and intelligent.
They didn't squabble with Bulka. Not a single dog has ever snapped at Bulka. He would only show his teeth, and the dogs would curl their tails and walk away.
Once I went with Milton for pheasants.
Suddenly Bulka ran after me into the forest. I wanted to drive him away, but I couldn't. And it was a long way to go home to take him away. I thought that he would not interfere with me, and went on; but as soon as Milton sensed a pheasant in the grass and began to search, Bulka rushed forward and began to poke his head in all directions. He tried before Milton to raise the pheasant. He heard something like that in the grass, jumped, twirled; but his instincts are bad, and he could not find a trace alone, but looked at Milton and ran where Milton was going. As soon as Milton sets off on the trail, Bulka will run ahead. I recalled Bulka, beat him, but could not do anything with him. As soon as Milton began to search, he rushed forward and interfered with him. I wanted to go home already, because I thought that my hunting was spoiled, but Milton figured out better than me how to deceive Bulka. This is what he did: as soon as Bulka runs ahead of him, Milton will leave a trace, turn in the other direction and pretend that he is looking.
Bulka will rush to where Milton pointed, and Milton will look back at me, wag his tail and follow the real trail again. Bulka again runs to Milton, runs ahead, and again Milton deliberately takes ten steps to the side, deceives Bulka and again leads me straight. So all the hunting he deceived Bulka and did not let him ruin the case. Once I went hunting with Milton. Near the forest, he began to search, stretched out his tail, raised his ears and began to sniff. I prepared my gun and followed him. I thought he was looking for a partridge, a pheasant, or a hare. But Milton did not go into the forest, but into the field. I followed him and looked ahead. Suddenly I saw what he was looking for. In front of him ran a small turtle, the size of a hat. A naked dark gray head on a long neck was stretched out like a pestle; the turtle moved widely with its bare paws, and its back was all covered with bark.
When she saw the dog, she hid her legs and head and sank down on the grass so that only one shell was visible.
Milton grabbed it and began to gnaw, but could not bite through it, because the turtle has the same shell on its belly as on its back. Only in front, behind and on the sides there are holes where she passes her head, legs and tail.
I took the tortoise from Milton and looked at how its back is painted, and what kind of shell, and how it hides there. When you hold it in your hands and look under the shell, then only inside, as in a basement, you can see something black and alive.
I threw the turtle on the grass and went on, but Milton did not want to leave it, but carried it in his teeth behind me. Suddenly Milton yelped and let her go. The turtle in his mouth released a paw and scratched his mouth. He was so angry with her for this that he began to bark and grabbed her again and carried her after me. I again ordered to quit, but Milton did not listen to me. Then I took the turtle from him and threw it away. But he didn't leave her. He began to hurry with his paws to dig a hole near her.
And when he dug a hole, he filled the tortoise into the hole with his paws and covered it with earth.
Turtles live both on land and in water, like snakes and frogs. They hatch their children with eggs, and they lay the eggs on the ground, and do not incubate them, but the eggs themselves, like fish caviar, burst - and turtles hatch. Turtles are small, no more than a saucer, and large, three arshins in length and weighing twenty pounds. Large turtles live in the seas.
One turtle lays hundreds of eggs in spring. The shell of a turtle is its ribs. Only in humans and other animals the ribs are each separately, and in the turtle the ribs are fused into a shell. The main thing is that all animals have ribs inside, under the meat, while a turtle has ribs on top, and meat under them. When I left the Caucasus, there was still a war there, and at night it was dangerous to travel without an escort.
I wanted to leave as early as possible in the morning, so I didn't go to bed.
My friend came to see me off, and we sat all evening and night on the street of the village in front of my hut.
It was a month-long night with fog, and it was so light that it was possible to read, although the month was not visible.
In the middle of the night we suddenly heard a pig squeaking in the yard across the street. One of us shouted:
- This is a wolf strangling a pig!
I ran to my hut, grabbed a loaded gun and ran out into the street. Everyone stood at the gate of the yard where the pig was squeaking and shouted to me:
- Over here!
Milton rushed after me - he must have thought that I was going hunting with a gun - and Bulka raised his short ears and darted from side to side, as if asking whom he was told to grab onto.
When I ran up to the wattle fence, I saw that from the other side of the yard, straight towards me, a beast was running. It was a wolf. He ran up to the wattle fence and jumped on it. I moved away from him and prepared my gun. As soon as the wolf jumped off the wattle fence to my side, I kissed almost point-blank and pulled the trigger; but the gun made a "chick" and did not fire.
The wolf did not stop and ran across the street. Milton and Bulka set off after him. Milton was close to the wolf, but apparently he was afraid to seize it, and Bulka, no matter how hasty on his short legs, could not keep up. We ran as fast as we could, after the wolf, but both the wolf and the dogs disappeared from our sight. Only at the ditch, at the corner of the village, did we hear barking, squealing, and saw through the monthly fog that dust had risen and that the dogs were fussing with the wolf.
When we ran to the ditch, the wolf was gone, and both dogs returned to us with their tails up and angry faces. Bulka growled and pushed me with his head—he obviously wanted to tell something, but he couldn't.
We examined the dogs and found that Bulka had a small wound on his head. He apparently caught up with the wolf in front of the ditch, but did not manage to capture it, and the wolf snapped and ran away. The wound was small, so there was nothing dangerous.
We went back to the hut and sat and talked about what had happened.
I was annoyed that my gun had cut off, and kept thinking about how the wolf would have remained right there if it had fired. My friend wondered how the wolf could climb into the yard. The old Cossack said that there was nothing surprising here, that it was not a wolf, that it was a witch and that she had bewitched my gun. So we sat and talked. Suddenly the dogs rushed, and we saw in the middle of the street, in front of us, again the same wolf; but this time he ran so fast at our cry that the dogs no longer caught up with him.
After that, the old Cossack was completely convinced that it was not a wolf, but a witch; and I thought that it might not have been a rabid wolf, because I had never seen or heard that a wolf, after being driven away, returned again to the people.
Just in case, I sprinkled Bulke on the wound with gunpowder and lit it. The gunpowder flared up and burned the sore spot.
I burned the wound with gunpowder in order to burn out the furious saliva, if it had not yet entered the bloodstream.
If saliva got in and entered the bloodstream, then I knew that it would spread through the blood throughout the body, and then it would no longer be possible to cure it.
From the village I went straight to Russia, and first to Pyatigorsk, and stayed there for two months. I gave Milton to a Cossack hunter, and I took Bulka with me to Pyatigorsk.
Pyatigorsk is so called because it stands on Mount Beshtau. And “besh” in Tatar means five, “tau” means mountain. Hot sulfuric water flows from this mountain. This water is hot as boiling water, and above the place where the water comes from the mountain, there is always steam, like over a samovar. The whole place where the city stands is very cheerful. Hot springs flow from the mountains, the river Podkumok flows under the mountain. There are forests along the mountain, fields all around, and in the distance you can always see the great Caucasus Mountains. On these mountains the snow never melts and they are always white as sugar. One big mountain Elbrus, like a sugar white head, is visible from everywhere when the weather is clear.
People come to hot springs for treatment; and over the springs gazebos and sheds were made, gardens and paths were laid out all around. Music plays in the morning, and people drink water or bathe and walk.
The city itself stands on a mountain, and there is a settlement under the mountain. I lived in this settlement in a small house. The house stood in the courtyard, and in front of the windows there was a garden, and in the garden stood the master's bees - not in logs, as in Russia, but in round wicker baskets. The bees there are so peaceful that I always sat in the morning with Bulka in this garden between the beehives.
Bulka walked among the hives, was surprised at the bees, sniffed, listened to how they buzzed, but walked around them so carefully that he did not interfere with them, and they did not touch him.
One morning I came home from the water and sat down to drink coffee in the front garden. Bulka began scratching behind his ears and rattling his collar.
The noise disturbed the bees, and I removed the collar from Bulka. A little later, I heard a strange and terrible noise from the city from the mountain. Dogs barked, howled, squealed, people screamed, and this noise descended from the mountain and came closer and closer to our settlement. Bulka stopped scratching, put his broad head with white teeth between his front white paws, put his tongue in the way it needed to, and lay quietly beside me.
When he heard the noise, he seemed to understand what it was, pricked up his ears, bared his teeth, jumped up and began to growl.
The noise was getting closer. Like dogs from all over the city howled, squealed and barked. I went out to the gate to look, and the mistress of my house came up too. I asked:
- What is it?
She said:
- These are the convicts from the prison, they beat the dogs. Many dogs were divorced, and the city authorities ordered to beat all the dogs in the city.
- How, and Bulka will be killed if caught?
- No, in collars they are not ordered to beat.
At the same time, as I said, the convicts had already approached our yard.
Soldiers walked in front, four convicts in chains behind. Two of the convicts had long iron hooks in their hands and two had clubs. In front of our gates, one convict hooked a yard dog with a hook, pulled it to the middle of the street, and another convict began to beat it with a club. The little dog squealed terribly, and the convicts shouted something and laughed. The hooker with the hook turned the little dog over, and when he saw that she was dead, he took out the hook and began to look around to see if there was another dog.
At this time, Bulka headlong, as he rushes at the bear, rushed at this convict. I remembered that he was without a collar, and shouted:
- Bulka, back! - and shouted to the convicts so that they would not beat Bulka.
But the convict saw Bulka, laughed and deftly hit Bulka with a hook, and caught him by the thigh. Bulka rushed away; but the prisoner pulled him towards him and shouted to another:
- Beat!
Another swung a club, and Bulka would have been killed, but he rushed, the skin broke on his thigh, and he, tail between his legs, with a red wound on his leg, rushed headlong into the gate, into the house and huddled under my bed.
He was saved by the fact that his skin broke through in the place where the hook was. Bulka and Milton ended at the same time.
The old Cossack did not know how to deal with Milton. Instead of taking him with him only on a bird, he began to lead him after wild boars. And in the same autumn, the boar billhook speared it. No one knew how to sew it up, and Milton died.
Bulka also did not live long after he escaped from the convicts. Soon after his rescue from the convicts, he became bored and began to lick everything he came across. He licked my hands, but not in the same way as before, when he caressed. He licked for a long time and leaned heavily with his tongue, and then began to grab with his teeth. Apparently, he needed to bite his hand, but he did not want to. I didn't give him a hand. Then he began to lick my boot, the table leg and then bite the boot or the table leg. This went on for two days, and on the third day he disappeared, and no one saw or heard about him.
It was impossible to steal him, and he could not leave me, and this happened to him six weeks after he was bitten by a wolf. So, the wolf, for sure, was rabid. Bulka got mad and left. What happened to him in a hunting way is a stack. It is said that rabies consists in convulsions in the throat of a rabid animal. Rabid animals want to drink and cannot, because the convulsions are made worse by water. Then they lose their temper from pain and thirst and begin to bite. It's true, Bulka started having these convulsions when he started to lick and then bite my hand and table leg.
I went everywhere around the district and asked about Bulka, but I could not find out where he had gone and how he had died. If he ran and bit, like rabid dogs do, then I would hear about him. Oh, right, he ran somewhere in the wilderness and one died there. Hunters say that when a smart dog has a runny nose, he runs away to the fields or forests and there he looks for the grass that he needs, falls out in the dew and heals himself.
Apparently, Bulka could not be cured. He did not return and disappeared.
Story Cat Ivanovich, Georgy Skrebitsky
There lived a huge fat cat in our house - Ivanovich: lazy, clumsy. He ate or slept all day long. It happened that he would climb onto a warm couch, curl up in a ball and fall asleep. In a dream, it will spread its paws, stretch itself out, and its tail will hang down. Because of this tail, Ivanych often got hit by our yard puppy Bobka.
He was a very mischievous puppy. As soon as the door to the house is opened, he will dash into the rooms directly to Ivanych. She grabs him by the tail with his teeth, drags him to the floor and carries him like a bag. The floor is smooth, slippery, Ivanovich will roll on it as if on ice. Wake up and not immediately understand what's the matter. Then he will come to his senses, jump up, give Bobka a paw in the face, and he will go back to sleep on the couch.
Ivanych liked to lie down so that he was both warm and soft.
Either he will lie down on his mother’s pillow, then he will climb under the covers. And one day, this is what he did. Mom kneaded the dough in a tub and put it on the stove. To make it rise better, I covered it with a warm scarf on top. Two hours passed. Mom went to see if the dough was rising well. He looks, and in the tub, curled up, as on a feather bed, Ivanovich is sleeping. All the dough was crushed and he was all smeared. So we were left without pies. And Ivanych had to be washed.
Mom poured warm water into a basin, put the cat in it and started washing. Mom washes, but he doesn’t get angry - he purrs, sings songs. They washed it, dried it, and put it back to sleep on the stove.
In general, Ivanych was a very lazy cat, he didn't even catch mice. Sometimes a mouse scratches somewhere nearby, but he does not pay attention to it.
One day my mother calls me to the kitchen:
— Look what your cat is doing!
I look - Ivanovich is stretched out on the floor and basking in the sun, and next to him a whole brood of mice walks: very tiny, they run around the floor, collect bread crumbs, and Ivanovich seems to be grazing them - he glances and closes his eyes from the sun.
Mom even threw up her hands:
— What is this doing!
And I say:
— How — what? Don't you see? Ivanych guards mice. Probably, the mother mouse asked to look after the guys, otherwise you never know what could happen without her.
But sometimes Ivanych liked hunting for fun. There was a grain barn across the yard from our house, there were a lot of rats in it. Ivanych found out about this and went hunting one afternoon.
We are sitting by the window and suddenly we see Ivanych running across the yard with a huge rat in his mouth. He jumped out the window - straight to his mother's room. He lay down in the middle of the floor, let out a rat, he looks at his mother: “Here, they say, what a hunter I am!”
Mom screamed, jumped up on a chair, a rat scurried under the closet, and Ivanych sat and sat and went to bed.
Since then, Ivanych has died. In the morning he will get up, wash his muzzle with his paw, have breakfast and go to the barn to hunt.
A minute will not pass, but he hurries home, dragging a rat. Bring it into the room and let it out. Then we got used to it so much: how he goes hunting - now we lock all the doors and windows. Ivanych scolds, scolds the rat around the yard and let it go, and she will run back to the barn. Or, it used to be, he would strangle a rat and let's play with it: throw it up, catch it with its paws, otherwise he would put it in front of him and admire it.
Once he played like this - suddenly, out of nowhere, two crows. They sat down nearby, began to jump around Ivanych, dance. They want to take the rat away from him - and it's scary. They galloped and galloped, then one of them grabbed Ivanych from behind with his beak by the tail! That one turned over head over heels and after a crow, and the second picked up a rat - and goodbye! So Ivanych was left with nothing.
However, although Ivanych sometimes caught rats, he never ate them. But he was very fond of eating fresh fish. As soon as I come back from fishing in the summer, I just put the bucket on the bench, and he is right there.
He sits next to him, sticks his paw into the bucket, right into the water, and fumbles there. He will hook the fish with his paw, throw it on the bench and eat it. Ivanych even got into the habit of dragging fish from the aquarium.
Once I put the aquarium on the floor to change the water, and I myself went to the kitchen for water. I come back, I look and I can’t believe my eyes: at the aquarium Ivanych - he stood up on his hind legs, and launched his front paws into the water and catches fish, as if from a bucket. I missed three fish.
From that day Ivanych is in trouble: he never leaves the aquarium. I had to cover it with glass. And if you forget, now he will pull out two or three fish. We didn't know how to get him out of it.
But only, fortunately for us, Ivanovich himself very soon unlearned.
Once I brought it from the river instead of fish in a bucket of crayfish, put it, as always, on the bench. Ivanych immediately ran - and right into the bucket with his paw.
Yes, suddenly how to pull back! We look - the crayfish grabbed its paw with claws, and after it the second, and after the second - the third ... Everyone drags from the paw behind the paw, moves their whiskers, clicks with claws. Here Ivanych's eyes widened in fear, the hair stood on end: "What kind of fish is this?"
He shook his paw, so all the crayfish fell on the floor, and Ivanovich himself with a pipe - and a march out the window. After that, he didn’t even come close to the bucket and stopped climbing into the aquarium. That's how scared!
In addition to fish, we had a lot of different living creatures in our house: birds, guinea pigs, hedgehogs, hares ... But Ivanych never touched anyone. He was a very kind cat, was friends with all animals. Only Ivanych could not get along with the hedgehog at first.
I brought this hedgehog from the forest and put it on the floor in the room. The hedgehog first lay curled up in a ball, and then turned around and ran around the room.
Ivanych became very interested in the animal. Friendly approached him and wanted to sniff. But the hedgehog, apparently, did not understand Ivanovich's good intentions - he spread out the thorns, jumped up and painfully pricked Ivanovich in the nose.
After that Ivanych stubbornly avoided the hedgehog. As soon as he crawled out from under the closet, Ivanovich would hurriedly jump up onto a chair or at the window and did not want to go downstairs.
But one day, after dinner, my mother poured soup into Ivanovich's saucer and put it on the rug. The cat sat down near the saucer more comfortably, began to lap. Suddenly we see a hedgehog crawling out from under the closet. He got out, pulled his spout, went straight to the saucer. He came and started eating too. But Ivanovich does not run away, he is hungry, looks askance at the hedgehog, but he himself is in a hurry, drinking.
So together they drank the whole saucer.
From that day on, mother began to feed them together every time.
And how well they got used to it! One has only to knock mother with a ladle on a saucer, and they are already running. They sit side by side and eat. The hedgehog will stretch its muzzle, attach thorns, such a smooth one. Ivanovich completely ceased to be afraid of him. So we became friends.
We all loved him very much for Ivanych's kind disposition. It seemed to us that in his character and mind he was more like a dog than a cat. He ran after us like a dog: we go to the garden - and he follows us, mom goes to the store - and he runs after her. And we return in the evening from the river or from the city garden - Ivanych is already sitting on a bench near the house, as if waiting for us.
As soon as he sees me or Seryozha, he immediately runs up, starts purring, rubbing against his legs and hurrying home after us.
The house where we lived stood on the very edge of the town. We lived in it for several years, and then moved to another, on the same street.
Moving, we were very afraid that Ivanych would not get along in a new apartment and would run away to his old place.
