«Maybe we should go tomorrow after all?» Olga looked forlornly at the thermometer outside the window. «It’s so cold.»
«It will be even colder tomorrow,» Alexander said as he pulled on his jacket. «Didn’t you hear the forecast? They’re predicting minus thirty. And our fridge is completely empty.»
Olga sighed. Indeed, there was no putting it off any longer—the last packet of pasta lay forlornly on the shelf, the milk had run out the day before, and Barsik the cat was demonstratively licking an empty bowl, hinting at a food crisis.
«Alright,» she said decisively, winding her scarf around her neck. «Let’s go. We’ll stock up properly so we don’t have to leave the house for a week.»
«That’s the right attitude!» her husband cheered. «Did you make a list?»
«You offend me!» Olga patted the pocket where a scribbled sheet lay. «Three pages in fine print!»
«Oh, I feel the credit card heating up already…» grumbled Alexander, but without malice.
He knew better: when his wife was set on a major shopping expedition, it was easier not to argue. Afterward, the fridge would be packed, the cupboards would have a strategic reserve of grains and canned goods, and the balcony would be lined with stacks of juices and mineral waters.
«We’re stocking up like partisans for winter,» he chuckled as he started the car.
«Not partisans, but sensible people!» Olga retorted, rubbing her frozen hands. «You’ll see, everyone else will be scrambling in the shops at minus thirty, while we’ll be sitting warm at home.»
The hypermarket was surprisingly crowded—apparently, they weren’t the only ones making strategic reserves before the frost.
«Okay, let’s start with the heavy stuff,» Olga commanded, checking the list. «San, grab a second cart. Water and juices first, then grains.»
Alexander just nodded, accustomed to following his wife between the aisles. Over the years, he had learned that when Olga was in «major shopping mode,» it was best not to argue, but just silently push the cart and reach for goods on the upper shelves.
After an hour and a half, they finally reached the checkout. Both carts were packed to the brim.
«And we really need all this?» Alexander stretched, eyeing the impressive mound of products on the belt.
«Of course!» Olga nodded confidently. «Look: here’s a month’s supply of cat food for Barsik, there’s meat and fish for the freezer, and here are all sorts of canned goods.»
The cashier just smiled knowingly as she scanned item after item. Apparently, she’d seen quite a few families like theirs today.
Loading the car turned into a real quest—how to fit all the bags so that nothing got squished or broken.
«Maybe we should put some on the back seat?» Olga suggested, looking doubtfully at the packed trunk.
«No way,» grumbled Alexander, stuffing another bag in. «I’ll be sweeping up crumbs forever. Just a little more rearranging. Ah, there, that’s better!»
Finally, everything was packed, and they set off. They were so caught up in discussions and debates about where to put what that they didn’t notice it had gotten dark. The frost was intensifying—the car’s windows were starting to freeze around the edges.
«Why is it so cold?!» Olga rubbed her frozen hands. «San, maybe turn up the heater?»
«How much higher?» her husband grunted, not taking his eyes off the road. «It’s already on maximum. Hang in there, we’ll be home soon.»
Returning from the hypermarket loaded with purchases, they faced an especially cold February evening—the car thermometer showed minus twenty-five.
«Stop!» Olga suddenly grabbed her husband by the sleeve. «San, stop!»
«What’s the matter?» Alexander asked, braking.
«There’s a dog!» Olga was already opening the door. «It’s tied up!»
At the lamppost, huddled from the cold, sat a small shaggy dog. Nearby were two bags with something inside and a note taped to the post.
Olga, wrapping herself in her scarf, approached. The dog raised its head—its brown eyes showed such fear and despair that it was heartbreaking.
«My God,» Olga, with trembling hands, tore off the note. «San, come here!»
«I’m moving to another city. Can’t take the dog with me. The dog’s name is Punya, she’s 3 years old. The bags have food and belongings. Sorry.»
«What’s this supposed to mean?!» Alexander, who had approached, exclaimed. «In such frost! And to leave a note. Do people have no conscience?»
Punya (if that really was her) whimpered quietly, as if understanding that they were talking about her.
«Sash,» Olga pleaded with her husband. «We can’t just leave her here!»
«What?» Alexander already knew where this was heading. «Ol, have you lost your mind? We’re in a rented apartment! And a cat! And a landlord.»
«But she’ll freeze!» Tears tinged Olga’s voice.
Alexander sighed heavily. He knew that tone—arguing was pointless. And he understood: they couldn’t just leave the dog to die.
«Alright,» he relented. «But you’re the one who will talk to the landlord!»
Punya, it seemed, understood that her fate was being decided. She stood up, wagging her tail uncertainly—as if afraid to believe in her own salvation.
At home, the first surprise awaited: Barsik the cat, usually phlegmatic and indifferent, arched his back and, with a wild meow, dashed under the bed at the sight of the dog.
«Here we go,» grumbled Alexander, hauling in the bags. «And this is just the beginning!»
Punya cautiously looked around, hesitant to move. She was shivering—whether from the cold or fear.
«Come here, little one,» Olga called, taking a bowl out of a bag. «Want to eat?»
The dog flinched at the word «eat,» but remained standing. Only her tail faintly wagged.
«She’s scared,» Alexander sighed. «No wonder, after what she’s been through.»
They decided to postpone the call to the landlord until the morning. But she called them first.
«Olga?» came the stern voice of Maria Petrovna over the phone. «Do you have a dog there?»
«How did you know?» Olga was taken aback.
«The neighbor from below called. Says she heard barking. Wasn’t there something about dogs in our contract?»
«Maria Petrovna,» Olga took a deep breath. «You see, this is what happened.»
And she told the whole story. About the cold, the note, the frightened eyes of Punya.
Silence hung on the line.
«So,» the landlord finally said. «You can keep the dog. But the rent goes up by three thousand. And if there are complaints from neighbors, you know what.»
«Thank you!» Olga exhaled. «Thank you so much!»
But that was only the beginning. The following weeks turned into a real challenge for the whole family.
Punya turned out to be a dog with a personality. The first few days, she didn’t move from the front door—apparently waiting for her previous owners. She would only eat when no one was looking. Any sudden movement sent her scurrying to a corner.
Barsik also wasn’t quick to accept the new neighbor. He hissed from under the bed, and when he did come out, he stayed exclusively at high points: on top of cupboards, shelves, and window sills.
«What a circus,» Alexander sighed, looking at this menagerie. «Maybe we shouldn’t have.»
But one evening, something happened that changed everything.
Olga was lying down with a fever—she had caught the flu. Alexander was at work. Suddenly, Punya, who had so far kept to herself, approached the bed and gently nudged Olga’s hand with her nose.
«What’s up?» Olga was surprised.
In response, the dog just sighed and jumped onto the bed! She curled up at Olga’s feet and began to purr quietly—almost like a cat.
«Well, would you look at that,» Olga whispered.
Half an hour later, Barsik descended from the top shelf of the cupboard. He looked at the dog, snorted for formality, and lay down next to her!
Returning from work, Alexander froze in the bedroom doorway:
«Did I miss something?»
On the bed, his wife slept peacefully, and at her feet, Punya and Barsik were nestled side by side, as if they had always been there.
From that day on, everything changed. Punya seemed to understand: she wouldn’t be abandoned or betrayed. She blossomed, cheered up, even her fur shone brighter. It turned out she knew a bunch of tricks—apparently, her previous owners had indeed worked with her.
Barsik also came to terms with the new neighbor. Moreover, he and Punya became so close that they were sometimes caught in joint mischief.
«Look at these criminals!» Alexander would exclaim, discovering a torn bag of food. «And who’s the mastermind here, huh?»
Punya and Barsik would simultaneously look away, pretending they had nothing to do with it.
A year passed. Now, no one could imagine their home without Punya. She became a full member of the family—with her habits, character, and quirks.
«You know,» Alexander said one day, watching his wife brush the dog, «we were lucky.»
«What do you mean?»
«Well, that we were passing by that post. That we stopped. That we decided.»
Olga smiled:
«No, Sasha. Punya was lucky. And those who left her were lucky too. Because if it weren’t for the frost, if it weren’t for us.»
She trailed off. Punya, as if understanding what was being discussed, raised her head and licked her owner’s nose.
«Yes, yes,» Olga laughed, «you are the smartest! And the most beautiful!»
And Barsik skeptically meowed from the top shelf of the cupboard, as if to say, don’t get too full of yourself.
You know, they say we don’t meet anyone by accident. Sometimes fate brings us together at just the right moment—to save, support, give a home, and love. And it doesn’t matter whether you are a person or a dog—the only important thing is to open your heart and believe that happiness is possible.
Even if you’ve been betrayed before. Even if you were tied to a post in the cold. Even if you were left with just a note saying «sorry.»
