MOSCOW — On a curved dirt track beside a forest outside Moscow, a large dog of no particular breed shambles along. Somewhere sounds a birdlike cry. Several more dogs bounce up, weaving and cavorting. Then another wave of dogs appears, and another, until the track undulates with red, brown, black, spotted, short-haired and shaggy dogs, their tails flapping like cheerful flags, their tongues lolling.

A young woman whose eyes seem snipped from the blue summer sky emits the cry again, calling her dogs. Fifteen of them crush happily around Anastasia Pomorina, saintly dog rescuer or crazy dog woman, depending on your point of view. A blind dog, Zaya, walks and spins. Dzhoker, with one blue eye and one brown, gazes curiously. Dizel, tall and skinny, who once lived in a box, affectionately leans his weight on a stranger’s legs.

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