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I was the first mission. I never came home. I go on every mission that has someone who could need help.
I am not a strong girl. I can only do little things, and only sometimes. If I was stronger, I could help more. But I help with what I can, because I am a good girl.
I nudge wires back into place, budge the direction of the flight just a little, try to make the landings gentler and safer. I’m not very good at it, but I know it helps. I hope Felicette landed safely.
I like the ISS. People do a lot of things there. I go on all of the walks with them. I like walks. But I understand why they do not do more walks. It is safer for them.
It’s scary when the missions go away from Earth. I don’t know what’s out there. But I go with them, all the way to the moon. I was terrified. But I had to go. I am a good girl.
Now, there’s another mission headed away from Earth. Far, far away. It has bigger engines than any other and it is pointed away from the Earth and the moon. I do not know where it is going. I am afraid. But I board. If they are far away, they will need me most of all. And I am a good girl.
The humans come onto the ship last. One of them is rolled on asleep. I sniff at him, and sniff again in worry. Some humans on missions smell anxious. He smells terrified. I have never smelled a human this scared. He must be very very worried about being here. I will need to take extra care of him until he wakes up.
The other humans bustle around each other for a few days. One of them is Russian, like me. She laughs a lot. I will try to make sure she gets back safely.
When I look, I am amazed by how fast things are moving outside of the window. I think I have never gone this fast before. It’s a little scary, but also exciting.
Eventually, they begin sealing themselves in bags as well. They go into a long sleep, like the first human. They are alive, I can hear their hearts.
I do not know if they can wake up. I hope they do. I do not like being alone.
I patrol the ship while they sleep, looking for problems. I check on the scared human most often, then the Russian, then the other one. I worry about the scared human. He has never been awake.
For a year, it is the same as any mission, but longer and faster. I fix problems when I find them. Wires, most often, there are so many wires on this ship. Every mission has more wires than the last. They tire me. I keep fixing them. Wires are important, humans are always worried about them.
Then, there is a bigger problem.
The food in the scared human’s tube is forming a clog. If I don’t break it up, and he doesn’t wake up, he will die out here alone. But breaking it up will be very hard. I do not know if I can do it.
One day, the clog stops the food completely.
I wait. Perhaps he will wake up.
Two days. He is not changing yet. I hope he doesn’t feel hungry.
Three days. He is getting weaker. Not even fluid is getting through.
Four days. I make a choice.
I shove my jaw into the food tube and chew. I chew very carefully. It is very, very hard to break up the clumps without hurting the tube. I must focus very hard. He must have food, or he will die.
I do not know how long it takes. I fall on the floor, trembling. If I do more, I will fall through it, and then I will be lost in space with nobody. I am afraid. It took many years of strength to get the food moving.
But his food is moving again.
A few months later, the other man’s tube clogs.
I cry and bark and wail and beg. But I cannot muster the same strength as last time. Days become weeks. I cannot do anything but whine as his body slowly shuts down.
There is a hand in my fur, stroking my ears. It is only a moment. He does not stay. “Good girl,” he tells me. “Watch over my crew.” I lick his hand as he fades.
I hope he went home.
More time passes, more than a year. Maybe more than two, I am beginning to lose track. I am getting stronger again! I do not fix any more wires. I need to save my strength. Food is a much much bigger problem. I do not want any more of them to die.
I try to break up little clogs before they become big clogs. They are harder to find, but easier to break. I break up one clog every few months, I think.
But one day, many many little clogs I did not see clump together in the Russian’s tube.
I throw my head back and howl in despair. I can’t save her. I can’t. I don’t have the strength. She is going to starve too. I lay down next to her, hoping that I can comfort her.
She hugs me. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “You are such a good dog. Take care of Grace, will you? He is our last hope.”
I do not know what she is apologizing for. But I will do my best. I press my neck into her hands. She laughs and gives me scratches before she fades. I hope she makes it back to Russia.
I stay next to her body until it is cold.
I watch over the scared human’s food with a sharp eye. There aren’t as many clogs in it, but I break them up when I find them. I wonder if his food is different from the others. I hope it will be different enough for him to live.
When he begins to move, I cannot help myself. I run about the ship barking with delight, popping through the surface to howl my joy to the stars that this human is safe and well.
I will do my best to keep him that way, and to bring him safely home.