WE STOOD IN THE OBLONG LIVING ROOM WITH ITS MANY WINDOWS. IF YOU WERE A BOY, YOU COULD HAVE HIDDEN UNDER THE SOFA CUSHIONS IF YOU were still enough, or behind a china cabinet if you were slim. But there was no hope here for a dog and her puppies. The same was true with a small parlor on the other side of the front door; no closet, nothing but exposed, empty space.

Gathering in the roomy entry hall with its high ceiling, we looked around us. If you faced the stairs that led to the second floor, the door to the kitchen was on your right, the living room, front door, and small parlor behind you. Next to the stairs, on the left was a large closet, and to the left of that a hall that led to the back bedroom where Petr died. Next to the bedroom was a back door and another door that took you to the far end of the kitchen. You could make a complete circle by walking down the hall, past the bedroom, going into the kitchen, out the other end of it, and into the entrance area where we stood. We did just that, with Zasha at our heels, twice, ending up in front of the closet with no answer.

Rina said, “We’re doing it all wrong.” She got down on her hands and knees. “Now I’m Zasha’s size. I’m going to look at the world like she does.” She moved on all fours to the closet, opened the door, and crawled in. We’d already looked in the closet, of course. As overstuffed as it was with winter coats and boots, there was no hiding place. Rina came out, now sniffing like a dog. Zasha nudged her playfully with her nose and pawed at her side. She headed for the stairs to the second floor.

“Rina, get up,” my mother told her. “You’ll tear your dress.”

“I say let her stay like that,” I said, running past her up the steps.

“Here, Rina, here. Good dog,” Nikolai said, pretending to hold up a treat in front of her. “Sit, girl!” Rina was unperturbed and continued her climb.

“Leave her alone and concentrate,” my mother said, as she, too, passed Rina.

When you reached the top of the stairs, there was a linen closet to your immediate left. It was on top of, and the same size as, the one in the hall below. I peered in; it was filled with extra blankets, quilts, towels, and sheets. If you went a little farther, you entered our one and only bathroom. It was larger than most in old farmhouses like ours. The floor was covered with tiny white tiles that made it look clean and inviting.

Now, if you turned around and went back the way you came, you’d see the door to my parents’ bedroom. Turning right, going down the hall, and then right again: on your left, Rina’s room; straight ahead was the bedroom I shared with Nikolai.

My mother, Nikolai, and I went in and out of the bedrooms a few times, as if we would discover something we’d missed if we only looked harder. Zasha stuck close to me. Rina continued crawling and sniffing her way through the rooms, which was seeming a lot less amusing and a lot more annoying, until I heard her call, “I found it!” The three of us came running to find Rina on her feet and holding open the door to the linen closet. My shoulders slumped.

“Rina, we’ve all looked there. It won’t do; they’ll be able to see her.” Nikolai started to walk away. Even my mother looked disappointed.

“You haven’t heard my idea yet,” Rina said confidently.

I was tempted to follow Nikolai, but my mother said, “Tell us, then.”

“It’s simple. The closet downstairs is very tall. How high is the ceiling, Mama?”

My mother thought for a second. “Ten feet, I think.”

“And it’s right below this closet. All we have to do is make a new ceiling in the closet downstairs, maybe two and a half or three feet lower than the real one —”

“Oh,” I gasped, knowing just what she was thinking.

“This is my idea, Mikhail. Let me finish. Then, we build a trapdoor from this floor,” she said, pointing to the floor of the linen closet. “Then Zasha will have a space two and a half feet high, and — what do you think, Mama? — about four and a half feet by eight feet?”

Nikolai was on his knees examining the floor. “Brilliant. We’ll put the hinges on the inside of the door so they won’t show.”

“We can keep it open when there’s no one around so Zasha won’t be all closed in,” I said.

“I’ll drill airholes in the floor. Mother can hang things from the ceiling of the closet downstairs to distract attention from its height.”

“And the holes,” I added.

My mother nodded. “I will stuff it with hats and scarves, anything awkward or bulky so it will naturally feel crowded without seeming suspicious.”

“Rina!” I said. “I could almost kiss you.”

“Well, don’t,” she replied, but her smile betrayed her pride in figuring out our problem.

I knelt down next to Nikolai and examined the floor. “It’s oak,” I said. “It will be very hard to cut.”

“Maybe for you,” he teased. “Leave it to me; it’s a man’s job.” I pushed him playfully; he laughed and pushed me back.

“All right, you two. We may as well get started now. This could take longer than we think; there may be problems….”

“It’s perfect, Mama. There won’t be problems,” Rina assured her.

My mother, who’d seen many a problem in her life, put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s go see if one of the Golovin boys is going into town this morning. They can take us to Katia’s.” Everyone knew any one of the three wild sons would welcome an excuse to go into town and get out of his farmwork.

“Good idea,” Nikolai said seriously, without looking at them, already focused on the work to be done in the house. “Let’s clear out this closet, Mikhail, and decide how to begin.” I was grabbing a pile of blankets almost before he finished his sentence, anxious to create a place where Zasha could nestle in peace and bring her pups safely into the world.