As Mum and I walked home from the market, I spotted him first.
He wasnt curled up under the bench like tired or stray dogs usually do. Instead, he sat right on the bus stop seatcalm, confident, alert, like a person. In the snowy light, he squinted at the road, occasionally lifting his head to scan the passersby as if searching for someone. He didnt dart around, bark, or approach anyonejust sat there, waiting. It was strange almost human.
“Mum, look!” I tugged her coat sleeve. “A puppy!”
He was small, bony, with oversized ears and an awkwardness about him like a teenager still growing into his limbs. But it was his eyes that caught metired, but not dull. There was a depth to them, something words couldnt describe, but you felt it instantly.
Mum gave him a glance and sighed.
“Dont touch him. Hes probably full of fleas. No jabs, either. We cant even take him on the bus. If we leave, hell wander off eventually.”
But the bus came, then anotherand he still sat there. He shifted his paws, glanced around, but never moved from his spot. As if choosing. Waiting. And when his eyes met mineI swear I heard it: *”You came for me, didnt you?”*
“Mum, please” I wasnt old enough for grown-up begging yet. Just watery eyes, a tight chest. “Hell freeze.”
She bit her lip, looked up at the grey sky, then back at the pup. Finally, she exhaled.
“If no one takes him by tonight, well bring him home. But hes *your* responsibility. If Dads cross, *you* explain.”
I nodded like lives depended on it. Rushed back, unwound my scarf, and wrapped him up like a blanket. He didnt resistjust sighed, small and childlike, tucking his nose into my coat.
At home, he ate quietly, fast, *desperate.* Every crumblike it was his last chance. Then he curled up on an old jumper and slept. As if he could finally stop holding on.
“What do we call our hero?” Mum asked, putting the empty bowl away.
I thought, then it hit me.
“Todays April 12th.”
“And?”
“Gagarin.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Like the astronaut?”
“The *first.* Because hes *my* first. And a real hero.”
She smiled, but the name stuck. Gagarin stayed Gagarin.
At first, it wasnt easy. The cat hissed from the doorway and hid under the wardrobe. Gran announced the house now “smelt like dog.” Dad, away on business, ranted over the phone about allergies and madness. I listened, noddedbut didnt give in.
Gagarin was perfect. Barely barked, never demanded, never chewed shoes. Just *there.* Steady. As if knowing we were enough.
He grew. His ears got bigger, legs lanky, goofy but endearing. Hed wait by the door when I came homeno jumping, just watching, as if asking, *”How was your day?”*
He *knew* my moods. If I was ill, hed lie beside me, still. If I cried, hed bring his ball*”Dont be sad, play.”* If I argued with someone, hed press his head into my lap. Just *there.*
That winter was bitter. Thick snow, hard frosts, the river behind school frozen solideveryone skated there: kids, adults. Gagarin and I went most days. Id throw snowballs; hed chase, slip on the ice. It was brilliant.
That day, I went alone. My mate was poorly, Mum worked late. Snow fell in fat flakes, silence everywhere but the crunch underfoot.
Gagarin darted ahead, zigzagging through bushes. I neared the river. The ice looked smooth, beautiful, slightly crackedbut strong.
I stepped. Then again.
Then*crack.*
No time to scream.
Everything gave way. Water swallowed me. Cold punched my chest. *Panic.* Hands slippednothing to grip. Ice collapsing. Inside, I was screaming. No idea what to do, where to turn.
Then*a tug.*
My coat yanked.
I turned my head. *Gagarin.*
Teeth clamped on my sleeve, pulling with everything he had. He slid, scrambled, *wouldnt let go.* Dragged, jerked. Barked, whined*wouldnt stop.*
How we got out, I dont remember. Just ice under me, bloody elbows, shakingand him beside me. Soaked, shivering, wrapped around me like he feared losing me again.
Then ambulances, Mum, doctors. Me to hospital, him to the vet. Mild frostbite for me. For himinfection, wounds, exhaustion.
We were saved.
A week later, I came home. Gagarin met me at the door. Quietly pressed his nose to my stomachthen lay beside me. No words needed. Everything was clear.
Since then, hes not just a dog. Hes my universe. My Gagarin.
A year passed. We moved. New house, new door with a sign: *”Beware: Hero Inside.”*
He wont let me near the river nowwinter or summer. If I try, he blocks me. Stares into my eyes. Not angry. Just certain.
Sometimes he sits on the balcony, watching the sky. For ages. Like hes searching.
“Counting stars again, Gagarin?” I laugh.
He doesnt answer. Just rests his head on mine.
And its warm.
So warm.
Always.
If youve got a story about your own Gagarinshare it below. And dont miss the next onestay with us. More heart-warmers ahead.
