I saw a video of my 18-month-old granddaughter reaching up and pretending to steal her dad’s nose.

“Oh, no!” he said in mock horror, “you got my nose.” She giggled and put it back. He then stole her nose, but returned it.

This is a game that many an adult has played with many a child. Watching my son and granddaughter made me think of Major Kovalyov, who woke up one morning to discover his nose was missing.  He looked in a mirror and saw a flat place where his nose had been.

Meanwhile, a barber, Ivan Yakovlevich, cuts open a loaf of fresh-baked bread and discovers a nose inside. He recognizes the nose. It belongs to one of his regular customers, Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov, known as Major Kovalyov.

Ivan’s wife, in no uncertain terms, demands that the nose be removed from her house. Yakovlevich wraps the nose in a cloth and goes to throw it off a bridge into the Neva River, but is stopped by a policeman. Soon, Kovalyov’s nose takes on a life of its own. It wears a uniform and even out-ranks its former owner.

You can easily determine three things. One, this account is fictional. Two, it’s weird. And three, it takes place in Russia.

(How dare I discuss a Russian short story when there is currently so much political drama concerning the U.S. and Russia? My answer is simple. I refuse to let what’s going on today diminish my appreciation of a story written in 1836.)

Last year, I wrote a column about Nikolai Gogol, who was born in the Ukraine in 1809. His writing is often compared to that of Edgar Allan Poe, who was also born in 1809.

Poe wrote Gothic horror stories. Dark and creepy stuff, like the Tell-Tale Heart, The Black Cat, and The Pit and the Pendulum.

Gogol (GOH-gul), like Poe, wrote dark stuff. However, Gogol’s writing, instead of being referred to as Gothic horror, is often called fantastic. Call it what you may, the flavor of his stories is akin to Poe’s, and many essays have been written comparing the two.

This story, The Nose, was written by Gogol. You could find an English translation, but let me save you the trouble. After two weeks of nasal drama, Kovalyov wakes up to find his nose back on his face where it belongs. He goes to get a shave from Yakovlevich, who is very, very careful with the razor.

In the “I got your nose” game, putting a thumb between the first two fingers represents a stolen nose, but this is mostly an American practice. The game is played in other countries, but in some (Japan and Turkey, for example), putting a thumb between two fingers is a rude gesture.

Gogol, in real life, had an unusual nose. He said of it, “My nose is decidedly bird-like, pointed and long.” I wonder if someone played “I got your nose” with him when he was a little boy. Probably not, but the idea delights me.