Farewell to Alyonushka: Nearly Fifteen Years of Love

Today, my dog Alyonushka passed away. I am writing these words and still cannot believe this is really happening.

She left us this morning. She would have turned fifteen in September.

Almost fifteen years ago, a little black dog with white “socks” came into my life.

How Alyona Came Into My Life

It was late 2011. At the time, I was living in faraway, bitterly cold Yakutsk. During a conversation, I once told my boyfriend at the time, Styopa, that someday I would like to have a small dog.

It was probably one of those things people say without giving it much thought. But just before New Year’s, he simply brought home a tiny, frightened puppy.

She was only a few months old. Her name was Alyona.

Many people said it was a strange name for a dog. But we decided not to change it.

I have always believed that when someone new comes into your life, even someone very small, you accept them as they are. She already had a name. So Alyona she would remain.

To be honest, I was not ready back then. I was not as excited as Styopa had probably expected me to be.

Now I want to say something important to everyone reading this. Please never give an animal as a surprise unless you are certain that the person is truly ready to take on that responsibility. A pet is not a gift. A pet is a family member for many years.

But Alyona had already entered our lives. And she became part of them.

The first year was difficult. She was always getting into trouble. She chewed wires. She had accidents in the apartment. She hid from us because she, too, was still afraid of this new world.

Sometimes I got angry. Sometimes I felt that I did not understand at all why I was doing any of this.

And then something happened that probably happens to almost everyone who shares their life with an animal. At some point, without even noticing it, you simply begin to love them. There is no single special event. No particular reason.

One day, you just realize that this little creature with a wagging tail has become part of your family.

Home Is the People Who Love You

One summer, Alyona ran away during a walk. We searched for her for several days.

I remember very clearly the moment Styopa opened the apartment door and, while I was lying in the bathtub, I heard the familiar clicking of tiny claws across the floor.

She had been found.

Dirty. Exhausted. Hungry. Frightened.

Styopa later told me that the moment she saw him, she ran straight toward him.

Perhaps she had wanted to explore the world. But during those few days, she learned the most important thing.

Home is not walls. Home is the people who love you.

After that, she was afraid of getting lost for the rest of her life. Even when she was allowed to run without a leash, she always kept her people in sight. She needed to know that her family was nearby.

Traveling Across Russia

Alyona traveled quite a lot during her life. We flew together across the entire country—from Yakutsk to St. Petersburg and then back again.

There were long layovers, walks near Domodedovo Airport, canceled flights, and funny adventures at Pulkovo.

She clearly did not enjoy flying, but every time she bravely endured those journeys with me.

Later, life unfolded in such a way that Alyona began living with my mother. At first, it seemed like a temporary arrangement. But life has a way of changing our plans.

Gradually, my mother became the most important person in her world. She cared for her every day.

Later, another dog joined our family—Vanya. He was young, noisy, and endlessly energetic. Eventually, the two of them moved together from Yakutsk to St. Petersburg.

By then, Alyona had become grown-up and wise. She was calm and sensible, and in her own way, she seemed to be raising her younger companion.

The Final Years and Goodbye

The last time I saw her was in 2022, just before I left Russia for good.

For the past several years, oceans separated us. Eleven time zones. Thousands of miles.

But love is not measured by distance.

I always asked my mother how Alyona was doing. I rejoiced in her good days. I worried about the bad ones. And I always looked forward to new photographs.

Her final year was difficult. She was ill.

My mother fought for her until the very end. She took her to veterinarians. Carried her in her arms. Took her out in a special stroller when walking became difficult. She celebrated every day when Alyona ate again or asked to go outside.

We did not give up. But little by little, the illness became stronger than she was.

In her final days, she almost stopped eating. She could no longer stand. At night, she cried out in pain as she tried to get up.

And then my mother made the hardest decision of her life.

This morning, a veterinarian came to the house.

Alyona passed peacefully. Without pain. In the arms of the person who had loved her for almost fifteen years.

Perhaps that peaceful passing was the greatest final act of love we could still give her.

My mother and I spoke on the phone for several hours. We remembered the funny stories. Her habits. Her adventures. Her personality.

And suddenly, I understood one very simple thing.

The life of any living being is not measured by the number of years it lived. It is measured by the love it managed to give—and by the love it left behind.

Alyona lived a long life. She saw different cities. She flew on airplanes. She walked through forests and parks. She made friends. She got into mischief. She loved lying in the sun and smelling the grass.

She was surrounded by people who loved her with all their hearts. And she loved us in the way only dogs can.

Unconditionally. Until the very end.

Today, she is gone. But I want to believe that as long as we remember those we love, they continue to live in our memories.

Thank You, Alyonushka

Thank you, my little Alyonushka.

Thank you for nearly fifteen years of happiness. Thank you for your kindness. For your loyalty. For every joyful wag of your tail. For every reunion. For every day we spent together.

Forgive me for not being beside you during these last years. I wish I could have held you just one more time.

But I know that you always knew the most important thing.

That I loved you.

And that I always will.

Sleep peacefully, my little girl.

You will always be part of our family. ❤️