The Short Story of the Day

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A Chameleon

by Anton Chekhov

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Once again Chekhov takes the overtly vertical and hierarchical structure of Russian society to task, using a policeman's flexible law enforcement to drive his point home.

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THE police superintendent Otchumyelov is walking across the market square wearing a new overcoat and carrying a parcel under his arm. A red-haired policeman strides after him with a sieve full of confiscated gooseberries in his hands. There is silence all around. Not a soul in the square. . . . The open doors of the shops and taverns look out upon God's world disconsolately, like hungry mouths; there is not even a beggar near them.

"So you bite, you damned brute?" Otchumyelov hears suddenly. "Lads, don't let him go! Biting is prohibited nowadays! Hold him! ah . . . ah!"

There is the sound of a dog yelping. Otchumyelov looks in the direction of the sound and sees a dog, hopping on three legs and looking about her, run out of Pitchugin's timber-yard. A man in a starched cotton shirt, with his waistcoat unbuttoned, is chasing her. He runs after her, and throwing his body forward falls down and seizes the dog by her hind legs. Once more there is a yelping and a shout of "Don't let go!" Sleepy countenances are protruded from the shops, and soon a crowd, which seems to have sprung out of the earth, is gathered round the timber-yard.

"It looks like a row, your honour . . ." says the policeman.

Otchumyelov makes a half turn to the left and strides towards the crowd.

He sees the aforementioned man in the unbuttoned waistcoat standing close by the gate of the timber-yard, holding his right hand in the air and displaying a bleeding finger to the crowd. On his half-drunken face there is plainly written: "I'll pay you out, you rogue!" and indeed the very finger has the look of a flag of victory. In this man Otchumyelov recognises Hryukin, the goldsmith. The culprit who has caused the sensation, a white borzoy puppy with a sharp muzzle and a yellow patch on her back, is sitting on the ground with her fore-paws outstretched in the middle of the crowd, trembling all over. There is an expression of misery and terror in her tearful eyes.

"What's it all about?" Otchumyelov inquires, pushing his way through the crowd. "What are you here for? Why are you waving your finger . . . ? Who was it shouted?"

"I was walking along here, not interfering with anyone, your honour," Hryukin begins, coughing into his fist. "I was talking about firewood to Mitry Mitritch, when this low brute for no rhyme or reason bit my finger. . . . You must excuse me, I am a working man. . . . Mine is fine work. I must have damages, for I shan't be able to use this finger for a week, may be. . . . It's not even the law, your honour, that one should put up with it from a beast. . . . If everyone is going to be bitten, life won't be worth living. . . ."

"H'm. Very good," says Otchumyelov sternly, coughing and raising his eyebrows. "Very good. Whose dog is it? I won't let this pass! I'll teach them to let their dogs run all over the place! It's time these gentry were looked after, if they won't obey the regulations! When he's fined, the blackguard, I'll teach him what it means to keep dogs and such stray cattle! I'll give him a lesson! . . . Yeldyrin," cries the superintendent, addressing the policeman, "find out whose dog this is and draw up a report! And the dog must be strangled. Without delay! It's sure to be mad. . . . Whose dog is it, I ask?"

"I fancy it's General Zhigalov's," says someone in the crowd.

"General Zhigalov's, h'm. . . . Help me off with my coat, Yeldyrin . . . it's frightfully hot! It must be a sign of rain. . . . There's one thing I can't make out, how it came to bite you?" Otchumyelov turns to Hryukin. "Surely it couldn't reach your finger. It's a little dog, and you are a great hulking fellow! You must have scratched your finger with a nail, and then the idea struck you to get damages for it. We all know . . . your sort! I know you devils!"

"He put a cigarette in her face, your honour, for a joke, and she had the sense to snap at him. . . . He is a nonsensical fellow, your honour!"

"That's a lie, Squinteye! You didn't see, so why tell lies about it? His honour is a wise gentleman, and will see who is telling lies and who is telling the truth, as in God's sight. . . . And if I am lying let the court decide. It's written in the law. . . . We are all equal nowadays. My own brother is in the gendarmes . . . let me tell you. . . ."

"Don't argue!"

"No, that's not the General's dog," says the policeman, with profound conviction, "the General hasn't got one like that. His are mostly setters."

"Do you know that for a fact?"

"Yes, your honour."

"I know it, too. The General has valuable dogs, thoroughbred, and this is goodness knows what! No coat, no shape. . . . A low creature. And to keep a dog like that! . . . where's the sense of it. If a dog like that were to turn up in Petersburg or Moscow, do you know what would happen? They would not worry about the law, they would strangle it in a twinkling! You've been injured, Hryukin, and we can't let the matter drop. . . . We must give them a lesson! It is high time . . . . !"

"Yet maybe it is the General's," says the policeman, thinking aloud. "It's not written on its face. . . . I saw one like it the other day in his yard."

"It is the General's, that's certain! " says a voice in the crowd.

"H'm, help me on with my overcoat, Yeldyrin, my lad . . . the wind's getting up. . . . I am cold. . . . You take it to the General's, and inquire there. Say I found it and sent it. And tell them not to let it out into the street. . . . It may be a valuable dog, and if every swine goes sticking a cigar in its mouth, it will soon be ruined. A dog is a delicate animal. . . . And you put your hand down, you blockhead. It's no use your displaying your fool of a finger. It's your own fault. . . ."

"Here comes the General's cook, ask him. . . Hi, Prohor! Come here, my dear man! Look at this dog. . . . Is it one of yours?"

"What an idea! We have never had one like that!"

"There's no need to waste time asking," says Otchumyelov. "It's a stray dog! There's no need to waste time talking about it. . . . Since he says it's a stray dog, a stray dog it is. . . . It must be destroyed, that's all about it."

"It is not our dog," Prohor goes on. "It belongs to the General's brother, who arrived the other day. Our master does not care for hounds. But his honour is fond of them. . . ."

"You don't say his Excellency's brother is here? Vladimir Ivanitch?" inquires Otchumyelov, and his whole face beams with an ecstatic smile. "'Well, I never! And I didn't know! Has he come on a visit?

"Yes."

"Well, I never. . . . He couldn't stay away from his brother. . . . And there I didn't know! So this is his honour's dog? Delighted to hear it. . . . Take it. It's not a bad pup. . . . A lively creature. . . . Snapped at this fellow's finger! Ha-ha-ha. . . . Come, why are you shivering? Rrr . . . Rrrr. . . . The rogue's angry . . . a nice little pup."

Prohor calls the dog, and walks away from the timber-yard with her. The crowd laughs at Hryukin.

"I'll make you smart yet!" Otchumyelov threatens him, and wrapping himself in his greatcoat, goes on his way across the square.

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Frequently Asked Questions

What is "A Chameleon" by Anton Chekhov about?

"A Chameleon" is a satirical short story about a police superintendent named Otchumyelov who is called to settle a dispute in a market square. A goldsmith named Hryukin has been bitten by a small white borzoy puppy, and he demands justice. Otchumyelov initially threatens to destroy the dog and fine its owner — but the moment someone suggests the dog might belong to General Zhigalov, he reverses course entirely, blaming Hryukin for provoking the animal. As different bystanders offer conflicting claims about the dog's owner, Otchumyelov flips back and forth at least five times, his opinion determined solely by the social rank of whoever might own the dog. The story ends when the General's cook confirms the puppy belongs to the General's brother, and Otchumyelov fawns over the dog while threatening Hryukin.

What is the theme of "A Chameleon" by Chekhov?

The central theme of "A Chameleon" is hypocrisy driven by social class. Otchumyelov represents a petty official whose sense of justice is entirely subordinate to the power hierarchy of Tsarist Russia. He does not care whether Hryukin was actually bitten or whether the dog is dangerous — he only cares whether punishing the dog might offend someone of higher rank. Chekhov also explores the corrupting influence of authority: Otchumyelov wields absolute power over the townspeople yet cowers before anyone connected to the General. A secondary theme is cowardice disguised as duty — Otchumyelov frames each reversal as a reasonable judgment, never admitting he is simply afraid.

Why is Chekhov's story called "A Chameleon"?

The title is a metaphor for the protagonist Otchumyelov, who changes his position as rapidly and instinctively as a chameleon changes color. Just as a chameleon adapts its appearance to its surroundings for self-preservation, Otchumyelov adapts his opinions to match whoever holds power in the moment. When the dog appears to be a stray, he is fierce and authoritative; when the dog might belong to a general, he becomes meek and deferential. The title also serves as an ironic commentary — unlike a chameleon, whose camouflage is subtle, Otchumyelov's reversals are absurdly transparent to everyone watching.

What literary devices does Chekhov use in "A Chameleon"?

Chekhov employs several literary devices to heighten the comic satire. Situational irony is the backbone of the story: a police officer charged with upholding the law abandons justice entirely based on who owns a dog. Caricature is used to exaggerate Otchumyelov's servile behavior — his repeated requests to put on or take off his overcoat signal his emotional discomfort with each reversal. Hyperbole appears in his wildly shifting pronouncements, from ordering the dog strangled to calling it "a nice little pup." The story also relies on dramatic irony, since the reader can see through Otchumyelov's transparent self-interest even as he poses as an impartial authority. The extended metaphor of the chameleon unifies the entire narrative.

What role does irony play in "A Chameleon"?

Irony is the engine that drives "A Chameleon." The most prominent form is situational irony: a law enforcement officer whose job is to deliver impartial justice does the exact opposite, basing every decision on social rank rather than facts. There is also verbal irony in Otchumyelov's language — he calls himself wise and fair while acting as a shameless sycophant. The overcoat serves as an ironic physical prop: Otchumyelov asks to have it removed when he feels the heat of embarrassment after defending the wrong side, then asks for it back when he reverses again, using the weather as a transparent excuse. Chekhov never states outright that Otchumyelov is corrupt — the irony lets the reader reach that conclusion independently, which makes the satire far more effective.

What is the significance of the overcoat in "A Chameleon"?

Otchumyelov's overcoat is a symbolic prop that signals his inner turmoil each time he reverses his position. When he first defends Hryukin and then learns the dog may belong to the General, he asks his policeman Yeldyrin to help him take the coat off, claiming "it's frightfully hot." When the dog's ownership is again uncertain, he asks for the coat back, saying "the wind's getting up." These requests have nothing to do with the weather — they are nervous gestures that betray his anxiety about offending someone powerful. The overcoat also represents Otchumyelov's concern with appearances and rank: it is described as "new," suggesting he takes pride in his status, yet his behavior reveals how hollow that authority really is.

Who is Otchumyelov in "A Chameleon"?

Otchumyelov is the police superintendent and central character of the story. He is introduced walking through the market square in a new overcoat — a detail that immediately establishes his vanity and preoccupation with status. When a dispute arises over a dog bite, Otchumyelov positions himself as the voice of law and order, but his judgments shift wildly depending on whether the dog belongs to someone important. He threatens to destroy the dog and fine its owner when he thinks the owner is a commoner, but praises the same dog as "a nice little pup" when he learns it belongs to a general's brother. Chekhov uses Otchumyelov as a satirical caricature of petty officials in Tsarist Russia who served power rather than justice.

What is the moral or message of "A Chameleon"?

Chekhov's message is that a rigid class hierarchy corrupts everyone within it — not just the powerful, but especially those who enforce the rules on their behalf. Otchumyelov is not a villain in the conventional sense; he is a small man desperately trying to survive in a system where displeasing the wrong person could end his career. The crowd, too, is complicit — they laugh at Hryukin's humiliation rather than demanding fairness. The story suggests that when justice depends on the social status of the parties involved rather than on facts, the law itself becomes a farce. Though written about 1880s Russia, the satire applies to any society where those in authority bend the rules to please those above them.

When was "A Chameleon" by Anton Chekhov published?

"A Chameleon" was first published on September 8, 1884, in the Russian humor magazine Oskolki ("Fragments"). Chekhov was only 24 years old and still working as a physician when he wrote it. At the time, he was publishing dozens of short humorous sketches under the pseudonym Antosha Chekhonte. "A Chameleon" is one of his earliest works to gain lasting recognition, and it remains a staple of Russian literature curricula around the world. The story was later included in his collected works and has been widely translated, most famously by Constance Garnett.

How does "A Chameleon" satirize Russian society?

Chekhov satirizes the rigid class hierarchy of Tsarist Russia by compressing its absurdity into a single comic scene. In Otchumyelov's world, the law is not a set of principles — it is a tool that bends to serve whoever holds power. A dog is either dangerous vermin to be destroyed or a charming puppy to be cherished, depending entirely on whether its owner outranks the local police. The satire extends beyond Otchumyelov to the entire social ecosystem: the crowd instantly shifts its sympathies, the policeman Yeldyrin offers whatever opinion seems safest, and Hryukin is left humiliated despite being the one who was bitten. Chekhov wrote during a period when open political criticism was censored, so humor and satire were among the few tools available for exposing social injustice.