An extraordinary tale indeed for you today. And a tale with a dog in it, which is always a bonus. Almost as good as a dog with a tail on it.
This tale comes from a land which can steal the heart: from Mother Russia at a savage time indeed. It concerns a small spaniel who had the misfortune to be born into the years of Russian revolution, and in particular that bloodiest of years, 1918.
You will all know the story of the Romanovs. Nicholas and Alexandra, who had by that time shed their titles of Tsar and Tsarina; Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia and Alexei. All were summarily shot at Yekaterinburg, by Bolsheviks.
Did you know the name of the house they died in? In Russian it is Дом Особого Назначения: the House Of Special Purpose.
Around midnight on July 16 1918, the Romanovs’ doctor was instructed to ask them to wake and dress on the pretext that they were being moved. But once they had done so they were herded into a basement room and shot. Those who succeeded in protecting themselves fem the hail of bullets were speared or bayonetted to death.
Amidst this profoundly shocking event – the waves of which reverberate even to this day across time – it seems quite incredible that a very small dog might have escaped the fate of his family.
Yet, the dog appealed to the soldiers and they looked after him, it is said, for a few short days.
Eventually the area fell to the White army and the dog was found, starving, traumatised: but alive. Its name was Joy. It had belonged to Alexei Romanov.
To Joy’s great fortune a soldier from the British Expeditionary Forces came upon him, and Paul Pavel Rodzianko adopted him, sailing with him from Vladivostok home again.
Paul lived in Windsor, where I work. he brought Joy to an English house to live out his days in peace, and when he died, he buried him there beneath the lawn.
These days things are so different. Boris Yeltsin had the House of Special Purpose demolished in 1977, and these days Joy’s Windsor house is an opthalmic centre and his grave long since covered over.
Though, for years, the inscription above his resting place read:”Here Lies Joy”.
It is good, is it not, to find peace at last?
With thanks to Margaret Kirby, Manager of Heritage and Arts in the Royal Borough of Windsor and Maidenhead, for this gem. You can read more about Joy here.
27 thoughts on “A Dog Called Joy”
Yet another proof that sometimes, out of unspeakable horror and sadness, joy survives. Thanks, Kate!
My pleasure, Karen. Joy does survive. I must remember that.
A reminder for all of us needing a little joy. Thanks so much for sharing this story, Kate. xoxo
Pleasure, Andra. A story which convinces me one can come through anything if one is hairy and has a waggy tail.
A lovely story…
Thanks, Helen. I must visit Joy’s house in Windsor now!
Truly amazing. I wonder what would have happened if it had been possible for the Anastasia-identity-claimant to meet Joy? Instant recognition would certainly have given food for thought!
Sad and yet joyful. Thanks for this story.
Pleasure. Peace will overcome, in some special circumstances 🙂
Read this late last night, Kate, just before nodding off to sleep after a very busy day with the grands. It was such an uplifting story with your unique story-telling techniques. How could one feel anything BUT joy at reading it. Thank you my far-away friend.
🙂 You are always, eternally welcome. One of my comforts in life is imagining you out there on the Cutoff, half a world away, reading a story and enjoying it. All the best. Bet the deer are frisky at the moment,
One fawn in the neighbors’ weeds and twin fawns frolicking. So far,we are all getting along., Kate.
Indeed. Raise your glasses! *Clink*
Great story… All the details seem like metaphors.
Sometimes, Jason, do you find life is a little like that? Stranger than fiction?
Definitely and especially after reading literature with a strong symbolic content. After reading Dante I keep seeing reflections and echoes: one man going up some stairs pointing something out to his friend seems the very image of Virgil.
That is some tale – poor dog, poor humans 😦
Such a sad story of the Romanov end. How miraculous that Joy survived and found a home, a canine exile.
Remarkable bit of joy you’ve uncovered her for us Kate.
Little Joy deserved to live…he was certainly apolitical, an innocent capable only of loving
I agree, Judith. A happy ending for one little dog.
Not often a blog/post brings a silent tear. This one did.
Dear Kate, I was THRILLED to read this piece! I gather Joy’s grave was in a garden in Clewer Hill Road, and that it is mow under a car park. Do you know whereabouts this car park is? Was the tomb stone saved?
Hello Dave, it is some considerable time since I wrote this piece and high time I followed up! I shall make some enquiries and report back.
👍🏻😉 Thank you!