8 cubes of chloroform were introduced, 1 camphor injection, 2 injections of adrenaline to the heart.
The aim of the operation: the mounting of an experiment by Preobrazhensky of a combined transplant of the hypophysis and the testes to explore the acceptability of hypophysis transplant and its potential for the rejuvenation of the human organism.
The operation was performed by Prof. P. P. Preobrazhensky assisted by Dr. I. A. Bormental.
During the night after the operation: repeated, dangerous weakening of the pulse. Expectation of fatal outcome. Massive doses of camphor according to the Preobrazhensky method.
24 December. Some improvement in the morning. Respiratory rate twice above normal. Temperature 42. Camphor subcutaneous. Caffeine injection.
25 December. Relapse. Pulse scarcely perceptible, extremities grow cold, unreacting pupils. Adrenaline to the heart, camphor according to the Preobrazhensky method, intravenous injection of saline.
26 December. Some improvement. Pulse 180, respiratory rate 92, temperature 41. Camphor, entral feeding by suppository.
27 December. Pulse 152, respiratory rate 50, temperature 39.8, pupils react. Subcutaneous camphor.
28 December. Significant improvement. At midday a sudden bout of heavy perspiration. Temperature 37°. The operational wounds are as they were. Changed dressing. Appetite returns. Fluids by mouth.
29 December. Sudden heavy moult of hair from the forehead and sides of the trunk. Called in for consultation: Professor Vasily Vasilievich Bundarev who heads the Chair of the Department of Skin Diseases and the Director of the Model Moscow Veterinary Institute. Both declare that there is no record of such a case in specialist literature. No diagnosis was agreed. Temperature—normal.
(Note in pencil)
In the evening came the first bark (8.15 p. m.) Noteworthy is the sharp change in timbre and lowering of tone. The bark, instead of “woo-uff-woo-uff” on the syllables “woo” and “uff”, is in expression faintly reminiscent of a groan.
30 December. The moult is taking on the character of total loss of hair. Unexpected result of weight-check; weight is now
30 kg owing to growth (lengthening) of bones. The dog is lying prone as before.
31 December. Enormous appetite. (A blot appears in the exercise book. After the blot is a hasty scrawl.) At 12 minutes past 12 the dog clearly barked “A-b-yr”.
(At this point there is a blank space in the exercise book after which there appears a mistake clearly made in a state of agitation.)
1 December (crossed out and corrected), 1 January 1925. Photographed this morning. Distinctly barks “Abyr”, repeating the word loudly and, it would seem, joyously. At 3 o’clock this afternoon (in large letters) it laughed, sending the maid Zina into a dead faint. This evening pronounced 8 times running the word “Abyralg”, “Abyr”.
(In slanting writing in pencil): The Professor has decoded the word “Abyr-valg”, it means “Glavryba”. Something monstr…
2nd January. Photographed smiling by magnesium flash. Got out of bed and stood confidently for half an hour on his hind legs. Almost my height.
(A loose leaf inserted into the exercise book.)
Russian science has narrowly escaped an irreparable loss.
Case notes on the illness of Professor P. P. Preobrazhensky.
At 1hr 13 mins.—Professor Preobrazhensky went off in a deep faint. As he fell he bumped his head on the leg of a chair. Tinctura of valerian.
In the presence of myself and Zina, the dog (if he can be called a dog, of course) swore at Professor Preobrazhensky, using obscene four-letter words.
(A break in the notes.)
6 January (in a mixture of pencil and violet ink).
Today, after his tail fell off, he quite clearly pronounced the word “pub”. The phonograph is working. God knows what is going on.
I am at a loss.
The Professor has cancelled reception. Beginning from 5 o’clock, from the consulting room, where that creature is pacing up and down, you can hear a stream of vulgar oaths and the words “a couple more”.
7 January. He can say a great many words: “Cabby”; “There’s no seats”; “Evening paper”; “The best present for children” and all the swearwords in the Russian lexicon. His appearance is strange. Hair remains on the head only, on the chin and the chest. Otherwise he is bald with flaccid skin. His sexual organs are those of an adolescent male. His skull has become considerably more capacious. The forehead is slanting and low.
I really am going mad.
Philip Philipovich still feels unwell. Most of the observations are made by me (phonograph, photographs).
Rumours are spreading about the town.
The consequences are incalculable. In the afternoon today all our alley was choc-a-bloc with old women and idlers of various kinds. The curious are still hanging around under the windows. A startling piece appeared in the morning paper: “The rumours concerning a man from Mars in Obukhov Alley are quite unfounded. They have been put about by traders from the Sukharevka Market, who will be strictly punished.” What man from Mars, damn it? This is becoming a nightmare.
Still better in the Evening Post which reported that a child had been born able to play the violin. On the same page there is an illustration: a violin and my photograph, subtitled Professor Preobrazhensky had performed a Caesarean operation on the mother. It is indescribable … he now says a new word: “Militiaman”.
It appears that Darya Petrovna was in love with me and pinched the photograph from Philip Philipovich’s album. After we had chased out the reporters one of them slipped into the kitchen, etc…
The chaos during reception hours! There were 82 calls today. The telephone is disconnected. Childless women have gone crazed and keep coming…
The entire house committee called with Shvonder at their head: what for they don’t know themselves.
8 January. Late this evening the diagnosis was made. Philip Philipovich, like a true scholar,. admitted his mistake: the transplant of the hypophysis gives not rejuvenation but total humanisation (underlined three times). This in no way detracts from the amazing, staggering nature of his discovery.
For the first time today Sharik took a stroll about the flat. Laughed in the corridor at the sight of the electric lamp. Then, accompanied by Philip Philipovich and myself, he proceeded to the study. He stands firmly on his hind paws (crossed out) legs and looks like a small, ill-formed man.
In the study he laughed. His smile is unpleasant and appears artificial. Then he scratched the back of his head, looked round and I noted a new, quite distinctly pronounced word: “Bourgeois”. He swore. His cursing is methodical, non-stop, and, it would appear, quite devoid of meaning. There is something almost phonographic about it; as though the creature had heard swearwords somewhere earlier on and had automatically, subconsciously recorded them in his mind and was now belching them up in wads. But as to that, I’m not a psychiatrist, damn it.
The cursing has a surprisingly depressing effect on Philip Philipovich. There are moments when he seems to lose the cool detachment of the scientist observing new phenomena and, as it were, loses patience. So, during the cursing he suddenly nervously yelled out:
“Stop!”
This had no effect whatsoever.
After a walk about the study Sharik was brought back by our combined efforts to the consulting room.
After this Philip Philipovich and I held a consultation. I have to admit here that now, for the first time, I saw that assured and strikingly brilliant man at a loss. Humming to himself, as is his habit, he asked: “And what are we to do now?” and answered his own question literally as follows: “Moskvoshveya… From Seville up to Granada. Moskvoshveya, dear Doctor.” I understood nothing. He explained:
“I am asking you, Ivan Arnoldovich, to go to the Moscow Clothes Shop and to buy him underclothes, trousers and a jacket.”
9 January. From this morning his vocabulary has been increasing at the rate of one new word every five minutes (on average), and by whole new phrases. It is as though, having been deep frozen in his consciousness, they are now thawing out and emerging. Once out, the new word remains in use. Since yesterday evening the phonograph has recorded: “Don’t shove”, “Scoundrel”, “Get off that tram step”, “I’ll teach you”, “The recognition of America”, “Primus”.
10 January. Today for the first time he was dressed. He accepted the vest willingly, even laughing merrily. The underpants he rejected, expressing protest with hoarse cries of “Stand in line, you sons of bitches, stand in line!” We succeeded in putting the clothes on. The socks are too big for him.
(At this point there are some schematic drawings, apparently showing stages of the gradual transformation of a dog’s paw into a human foot.)
The back half of the skeleton of the arch (planta) grows longer. The toes become elongated. Claws.
Repeated systematic training in the use of the lavatory. The servants are quite crushed.
But one should note the creature’s quick understanding. Things are going better.
11 January. Has become completely resigned to the trousers. Today pronounced the long, merry sentence: “You there, Mister, with the swell pin-stripe. Spare a bit of baccy for me pipe?”
The hair on his head is light and silky—easy to take for human hair. But traces of dark brown strands remain on the very top. Today the last fluff from the ears went. Colossal appetite. Enjoys salt herring.
At 5 o’clock in the afternoon an important event took place; for the first time the words pronounced by the creature were not unrelated to surrounding objects, but were a reaction to them. To be precise, when the Professor ordered him not to throw the left-overs on the floor he unexpectedly replied:
“Get off my back, you wimp.”
Philip Philipovich was astonished, then recovered and said:
“If you permit yourself ever again
