"Robert A. Heinlein - A tenderfoot in space (original version)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

“My goodness!”
“My ticket comes to thirty-eight hundred dollars and some, you get by
for thirty-four hundred, and Charlie’s fare is thirty-three hundred—yet
that confounded mongrel dog, which we couldn’t sell for his
veterinary bills, would cost three thousand dollars. If we had that to
spare—which we haven’t—the humane thing would be to adopt some
orphan, spend the money on him, and thereby give him a chance on
an uncrowded planet... not waste it on a dog. Confound it!—a year
from now Charlie will have forgotten this dog.”
“I wonder.”
“He will. When I was a kid, Ihad to give up dogs— more than once
they died, or something. I got over it. Charlie has to make up his mind
whether to give Nixie away. . . or have him put to sleep.” He chewed
his lip. “We’ll get him a pup on Venus.”
“It won’t be Nixie.”
“He can name it Nixie. He’ll love it as much.”
“But—Charles, how is it there are dogs on Venus if it’s so
dreadfully expensive to get them there?”
“Eh? I think the first exploring parties used them to scout. In any case
they’re always shipping animals to Venus; our own ship is taking a
load of milch cows.”
“That must be terribly expensive.”



6
“Yes and no. They ship them in sleep-freeze of course, and a lot of
them never revive. But they cut their losses by butchering the dead
ones and selling the meat at fancy prices to the colonists. Then the
ones that live have calves and eventually it pays off.” He stood up.
“Nora, let’s go to bed. It’s sad—but our boy is going to have to make
a man’s decision. Give the mutt away, or have him put to sleep.”
“Yes, dear.” She sighed. “I’m coming.”
Nixie was in his usual place at breakfast—lying beside Charlie’s
chair, accepting tidbits without calling attention to himself. He had
learned long ago the rules of the dining room: no barking, no whining,
no begging for food, no paws on laps, else the pets of his pet would
make difficulties. Nixie was satisfied. He had learned as a puppy to
take the world as it was, cheerful over its good points, patient with its
minor shortcomings. Shoes were not to be chewed, people were not
to be jumped on, most strangers must be allowed to approach the
hOuse (subject, of course, to strict scrutiny and constant alertness)—
a few simple rules and everyone was happy. Live and let live.
He was aware that his boy was not happy even this beautiful
morning. But he had explored this feeling carefully, touching his boy’s
mind with gentle care by means of his canine sense for feelings, and
had decided, from his superior maturity, that the mood would wear
off. Boys were sometimes sad and a wise dog was
resigned to it.
Mr. Vaughn finished his coffee, put his napkin aside. “Well, young