Work Text:
Odette couldn’t decide which had been more exhausting: the rehearsal or the train ride home.
The rehearsal had lasted nearly four hours. By the end, her legs felt like they belonged to someone else, and standing still had become an accomplishment. The train afterward was crowded, noisy, and slow enough that she’d started considering whether walking might be faster.
By the time she reached her apartment, all she wanted was a hot shower, something to eat, and a bed.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open.
She barely had one foot inside when she heard it.
Squeak.
Odette stopped. Looked down. A small, bone-shaped dog toy sat beside her shoes. She stared at it for a moment, then heard the rapid patter of tiny paws.
A small ball of fluff came zooming around the corner, legs moving as fast as they possibly could. They weren’t quite fast enough. Tugarin stumbled, caught himself, and immediately continued running as if nothing had happened.
“Tugarin!”
He reached her feet and began licking her shoes with enthusiasm.
Odette laughed despite herself. “Hello to you too.”
She crouched and scratched behind his ears. His tail wagged furiously. She hadn’t expected this. Not Tugarin himself; she knew what he looked like. It was just strange seeing him here, in her apartment. She’d been looking after him for three days, but it still felt surreal every time she came home and found a puppy waiting for her.
Mostly because Tugarin belonged to Alyosha.
And Alyosha hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a dog owner.
At least, not until two weeks ago.
---
It had happened at a grocery store. Alyosha had finished shopping and was walking toward his car when he noticed a cardboard box near the entrance. Large words were written across the side: TAKE ME HOME. Inside was a puppy. Three or four months old. Small enough to fit comfortably in the box.
Alyosha stopped. He looked at the puppy. The puppy looked back.
He continued toward his car, put his groceries inside, closed the trunk, and got into the driver’s seat. Then he sat there. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. He kept looking toward the entrance, toward the box, toward the puppy. Eventually, he sighed, got out, walked back, and picked up the box. He took the puppy home.
Odette learned about it the next day, sitting across from him when he casually mentioned he’d adopted a dog.
“You adopted a dog?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
She stared at him. He stared back.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Alyosha thought about it. “There was a puppy.”
Odette closed her eyes. “Yes, I understood that part.”
“He needed a home.”
“Of course.”
She’d been dating Alyosha for more than two and a half years. She knew him well, or liked to think she did. But every once in a while, he made a decision that left her wondering what exactly was happening inside his head. Apparently, this was one of them.
“What did you name him?”
“Tugarin.”
“Why?”
“I liked the name.”
Naturally.
She met Tugarin a few days later and immediately understood why Alyosha had taken him home. The puppy was impossible not to like. He was mostly white, with darker fur fading into a soft grayish-ash across his back and ears. His paws were far too large for his body, and his tail seemed to wag independently of the rest of him. He was also energetic enough to make Odette tired just watching him.
---
Somehow, in only two weeks, Alyosha had already established a routine. Which was why, when he told her he had to leave for a week to attend an environmental and wildlife conference where he’d been invited as a guest speaker, the question of what to do with Tugarin quickly followed.
He couldn’t leave a puppy alone at his apartment.
So Odette agreed to look after him.
The day before Alyosha left, he brought Tugarin over along with everything she might need: food, bowls, puppy pads, his bed and blanket, leash and collar, treats, a few toys, cleaning supplies, and a small doggy carrier. Odette watched as he carried everything inside.
“You know you’re only leaving for a week, right?”
“Yes.”
“You packed enough things for him to survive an expedition.”
Alyosha glanced at the bags. “I packed what he needs.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
He then spent nearly twenty minutes explaining Tugarin’s routine: when he ate, how much he ate, when he usually slept, which toys he liked, which things he wasn’t allowed to chew, where the puppy pads should go, and what to do if he started scratching at the door. Odette listened patiently, then asked the question she’d been dreading.
“What happens if he has an accident?”
Alyosha looked genuinely confused. “He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s potty trained.”
Odette stared at him. “He is?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve had him for two weeks.”
“I know.”
“Two weeks.”
“Yes.”
She looked down at Tugarin, who was sitting on the floor chewing one of his toys, then back at Alyosha. “How?”
“I trained him.”
She was impressed. She was also slightly concerned by how casually he’d said it.
---
Three days into dog-sitting, Odette discovered Alyosha hadn’t been exaggerating. Tugarin was remarkably easy to care for. He ate when he was supposed to. He slept when he was tired. He used the puppy pads. He hadn’t destroyed any furniture or chewed her shoes. He was even learning to wait when she put his food down.
The only part Odette wasn’t particularly fond of was bathing him. Every two or three days, Tugarin needed a bath. And Tugarin hated staying still during bath time.
The first time, she thought it would be simple. It wasn’t. The moment his fur became wet, Tugarin somehow became twice as slippery. He wriggled. He twisted. He tried climbing out of the tub.
“Tugarin.”
He placed his front paws on the edge.
“No.”
He looked at her. She looked at him.
“Don’t.”
His tail wagged.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Tugarin immediately tried to climb out. Odette caught him around the middle.
“Absolutely not.”
He squirmed. She tightened her grip.
“Tugarin.”
He squirmed harder.
“Why are you like this?”
Eventually, she managed to finish. Tugarin emerged clean, fluffy, and apparently extremely pleased with himself. Odette, meanwhile, was soaked. She stared at the wet bathroom floor, then at the puppy.
“You know,” she said, wrapping him in a towel, “everything else about taking care of you is easy.”
Tugarin looked up at her.
“You’re just slippery.”
He licked her hand.
“That isn’t an apology.”
---
Odette had never considered herself particularly good with animals. Vodyanitsa sometimes fed the stray cats around the theater. Whenever Odette tried to help, the cats usually ran away. She still remembered Vodyanitsa laughing at her.
“You scared them.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You looked at them.”
“They’re cats.”
“They don’t like you.”
Odette had decided that perhaps she simply wasn’t an animal person. Tugarin seemed determined to prove otherwise. He followed her everywhere. If she went into the kitchen, he followed. If she sat on the couch, he climbed up beside her. If she went to the bathroom, he waited outside the door. If she moved to another room, he somehow appeared a few seconds later. Sometimes he brought her one of his toys and dropped it at her feet. Sometimes he simply sat beside her.
Increasingly, Odette found that she didn’t mind. She’d even started talking to him.
“You’re spoiled, aren’t you?”
Tugarin wagged his tail.
“I suppose that’s what happens when Alyosha finds you.”
Tugarin tilted his head.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know your owner.”
She scratched behind his ears. He leaned into her hand.
“You’re actually quite cute.”
His tail started thumping against the floor.
“Don’t get excited.”
Thump.
“I said quite cute.”
Thump.
She laughed. “Fine.” She kept petting him. Eventually, she realized she’d been doing it for several minutes. She didn’t stop.
---
Her phone rang. Odette glanced at the screen: Alyosha. She answered.
“Hello.”
“How’s Tugarin?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Nice to hear from you too.”
There was a brief pause, then a laugh. “I’m asking about you too.”
“Sure you are.”
“How are you?”
“Tired.”
“Long rehearsal?”
“Four hours.”
“That’s long.”
“And the train was crowded.”
“You should get some rest.”
“I will.” She looked down at Tugarin. “But your dog is fine.”
“Did he eat?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
She told him.
“Water?”
“Yes.”
“Puppy pads?”
“Still using them.”
“Any problems?”
“Not really.”
Alyosha paused. “Good.”
Odette smiled. There was something almost endearing about how seriously he took all of this.
“You know,” she said, “for someone who’s only had a dog for two weeks, you’re surprisingly prepared.”
“I’ve had to be.”
“Did you really train him yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Potty training?”
“Yes.”
“In two weeks?”
“More or less.”
Odette shook her head. “That’s still ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you somehow turned into a competent dog owner overnight.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It is.”
There was a pause. Then Alyosha asked, “How are the baths?”
Odette immediately frowned. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask.”
He laughed. “That bad?”
“Your dog becomes a completely different creature the moment he gets wet.”
“He doesn’t usually have a problem with baths.”
Odette looked toward the bathroom, where a damp towel hung over the edge of the tub. “That’s because you have apparently failed to inform him that he’s supposed to stay in it.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“You do that.”
Tugarin suddenly perked up at the sound of Alyosha’s voice. Odette noticed.
“Tugarin.”
The puppy looked toward her phone. His tail started wagging.
“You hear that?” She held the phone closer. “Alyosha.”
Tugarin stood, walked over, and sniffed the phone. Alyosha went quiet. Then, softly:
“Hey, buddy.”
Tugarin’s tail wagged faster.
Odette smiled. “He knows it’s you.”
“I miss him.”
She looked down at the puppy. “So do I.”
She hadn’t meant to say it. There was a small pause. Then Alyosha said, “I meant you too.”
Odette felt her cheeks warm. “I know.”
Another pause. “Four more days.”
“Unfortunately.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You’d better.”
“I will.”
Odette glanced at Tugarin. “He’ll be waiting.”
“And you?”
She smiled. “I suppose I will too.”
---
After the call ended, Odette settled onto the couch. Tugarin climbed up beside her. She looked at him.
“Your owner is strange.”
His tail thumped.
“Very strange.”
Another thump.
She scratched behind his ears. Two weeks ago, Alyosha hadn’t intended to have a dog. He’d gone grocery shopping, seen a puppy in a cardboard box, and spent fifteen minutes sitting in his car trying to convince himself not to take him. Then he’d taken him anyway. Now that same puppy was sleeping beside her.
Odette looked down at Tugarin. “You know, you’re probably going to miss this place when you go home.”
Tugarin yawned.
She smiled. “And I’ll probably miss you.”
His tail moved lazily.
“Don’t tell Alyosha.”
Tugarin closed his eyes.
“Especially not that.”
She leaned back against the couch. For someone who’d never thought of herself as particularly good with animals, she was becoming surprisingly attached to one. Perhaps it was because Tugarin was easy to love. Perhaps it was because he trusted her. Or perhaps it was simply because he’d become a small, fluffy reminder of someone she loved. Odette wasn’t sure. She didn’t need to be.
She had four more days. Four more days of feeding him. Four more days of cleaning his puppy pads. Four more days of being followed around her own apartment.
And, unfortunately, at least one more bath.
She looked at Tugarin. “You know, that’s the only thing I don’t like about you.”
Tugarin opened one eye.
“Bath time.”
He closed it again.
Odette laughed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”
The puppy’s tail thumped once against the couch.
She smiled. “Good night, Tugarin.”
His tail thumped again. Odette reached down and scratched behind his ears. And for the first time since she’d gotten home, she no longer felt quite so tired.