Discuss humor in the story "The Chameleon" by Anton Chekhov.

Most of the humor in "The Chameleon" is satirical, poking fun at the overly hierarchical and deferential nature of society in Tsarist Russia. The main character of the story, Otchumyelov, is an officious police superintendent suddenly called upon to investigate an incident in which a dog has bitten the finger of an unfortunate goldsmith by the name of Hryukin. As the story unfolds, Otchumyelov rapidly changes his attitude towards the crime, initially expressing sympathy for the hapless Hryukin, before accusing him of seeking compensation when he discovers that the dog might belong to General Zhigalov, a local bigwig.
Otchumyelov's insistent manner proves to be a fertile source of humor. Chekhov paints such a vivid portrait of this pompous, bumbling official that we can easily envisage Otchumyelov as he harrumphs and splutters with each new twist and turn in the course of events. He speaks in short sentences, a sign of a no-nonsense man whose time (he thinks) is precious. Chekhov also uses descriptions of Otchumyelov's physical appearance to good effect in adding to the humorousness of his portrayal:

"H'm. Very good," says Otchumyelov sternly, coughing and raising his eyebrows.

Although the incident is a relatively trivial one, Otchumyelov's stern manner makes it seem like the crime of the century. One senses that Otchumyelov does not have much crime to deal with in this provincial backwater. As a result, when something does happen, no matter how minor, he treats it with undue seriousness. This serves as a reflection of his own overweening self-importance. When the story opens, it is noteworthy that his subordinate is striding after him with a sieve full of confiscated gooseberries. This is about as serious as violations of the law get in this town.
What is also highly amusing is just how shameless Otchumyelov is about each sudden volte face that he makes. This is a man entirely without any sense of self-awareness:

"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! Whose dog is it, I ask?"
"I fancy it's General Zhigalov's," says someone in the crowd.
"General Zhigalov's, h'm . . . 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!"

Otchumyelov is supposed to be a police officer, sworn to uphold the law without fear or favor. Yet, as soon as he thinks that the dog might belong to a local worthy, he publicly turns on the victim, making wild accusations against him. Otchumyelov also shamelessly dodges responsibility by dispatching his subordinate to the General's house to find out for sure if the dog actually does belong to him.
Although Otchumyelov is happy to strut about looking incredibly important and acting the part of a police superintendant, he finds it so much more important to maintain good relations with the town's social elite than to do actual police work. If he takes the dog to the General's himself, then he runs the risk of being made to look a fool. Even worse, it could look like he is accusing the General of a crime. Far better to get some underpaid lackey to do the dirty work.
When the General's cook informs the gathering throng that the dog in fact belongs to the General's brother, Otchumyelov's priceless reaction manages to combine all the main sources of humor in the story: his manner, his physical appearance, and his toadying obsequiousness to his social superiors:

"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?"

His ecstatic smile is completely genuine. This is a man who has spent the whole of the story parading up and down the town square like a prize peacock, unconvincingly playing the role of a police superintendant in a rapidly developing farce. Yet, here we see the true Otchumyelov, the broad, ecstatic smile spreading across his cheeks revealing just what he really is and what is most important to him. Once again, we see the utter lack of self-awareness in Otchumyelov, the shamelessness with which he so blatantly fawns over the gentry of the town, and the way in which he flagrantly disregards his duty to uphold the law, publicly humiliating and threatening a victim of crime.
This is all rather humorous, but it is of a distinctly darkish hue. Most of us would not want to live in a town in which the oafish Otchumyelov was the senior law-enforcement official. The fact that we do not, however, means that we can laugh at his bumbling vacillations while still recognizing the immense satirical force of Chekhov's astute observations.
https://americanliterature.com/author/anton-chekhov/short-story/a-chameleon