“Semyon, just hang in there a little longer. I’ll be free soon,” Vasily Andreyevich said softly into the phone, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “Don’t miss me too much, okay?”
He carefully placed the phone on the table and smiled.
Outwardly, he was a strict man, with sharp features and a stern gaze, but his soul was nothing like the hard shell he showed the world.
He knew his grandson managed just fine on his own.
Semyon had already learned to watch movies, read books, even cook simple meals — sailor-style pasta or an omelet.
Still, the boy would call from time to time and say he missed him.
And though Vasily understood this was partly a game, a child’s way of expressing emotions, it warmed his heart every time.
He played along, comforted him, told him not to be sad.
It had been two years since Semyon came to live with him — two long years filled with pain, loss, and slowly rebuilding life.
Vasily remembered the day he brought his grandson home. It felt like the world had fallen apart for good.
He could barely stay on his feet, as if he’d died and come back to life multiple times just to keep going.
But he had no choice.
All that remained after the tragedy was a six-year-old boy with empty eyes, lost in his thoughts.
The tragedy happened that cursed night when Semyon’s parents — Vasily’s son Misha and his young wife — were returning from a visit.
They had called a taxi, just wanted to get home.
But just outside their apartment building, another car — speeding recklessly and driven by a drunk kid — crashed into them. The impact was horrific.
Out of the three, only Semyon survived.
Small, fragile, like a broken toy.
How did he survive? It was a miracle.
Even the seasoned paramedics who had seen everything in their careers shook their heads: “A guardian angel must have covered him with its wing.”
The car was torn to pieces, but Semyon came out nearly unharmed — just a few scratches, probably from being pulled from the wreckage.
Vasily’s wife had passed away long ago — when their son was just sixteen.
First he became a guardian to Misha, and then to Semyon. Time passed, but grief never let go.
After losing his son and daughter-in-law, Vasily nearly gave up.
His mind spiraled into chaos: “Why? Why us?!”
But one day, he looked into his grandson’s eyes — empty like a winter sky above an abandoned park — and realized: if he broke now, Semyon would be completely alone.
And that could not happen. No way.
Months passed. Only after six months did Semyon start behaving like a regular child.
Quiet and thoughtful, but more himself.
Vasily returned to work.
At first, their kind neighbor, Nina Petrovna, helped take care of the boy.
She had a maternal heart and made sure Semyon was never alone.
As he grew more independent, she just checked in to make sure everything was okay.
She was good-hearted, but she often tried to set Vasily up with women.
Sometimes she’d bring over “prospects,” other times drop hints.
At first, Vasily didn’t understand why he was suddenly surrounded by so many attentive ladies.
“Well, Vasyok, none of them catch your eye?” she asked once.
Then he realized and laughed.
“You trying to marry me off, Nina Petrovna?”
She frowned.
“What’s so funny? You’re still young, healthy — can’t be living like a hermit! You could make someone happy and not die alone!”
To get her off his back, Vasily promised he’d “start looking at women.”
But Nina wasn’t the only one interested.
Other women began flirting too, which annoyed him — so much that he quit his hospital job and became a pathologist.
Maybe he should’ve done that earlier.
After the deaths of his wife and children, he had no tolerance for flirtation.
He was only fifty.
Had his son at nineteen, became a grandfather at thirty-nine.
Still in shape, handy, drank only on special occasions.
His shift was nearly over.
Evening arrivals were handled by the next team.
Vasily stepped out for a smoke.
Spring had just begun — the air was fresh and full of newness.
A large dog sat at the morgue door, eyes full of sorrow.
“Someone of yours brought in?” Vasily asked softly. “Don’t worry, buddy… It happens. Go home now.”
The dog sighed — like a person — stepped back a bit, then sat down again.
An hour later, Vasily returned, ready to go home.
The dog was still there, now whimpering, as if begging to be let in.
That was strange. Dogs usually sense death in advance. Why so nervous?
“Kolya! Who’d they bring in? Whose dog is this?”
A young orderly answered quickly:
“They found a woman on the street. No ID. Looks like she was walking her dog and…”
“Where is she?”
“Over there, not yet examined. Petrovich will check soon.”
Petrovich — Vasily’s shift replacement — always started work with a cup of hot tea.
Vasily approached the woman. Looked about forty.
Her face was clean, no obvious injuries… strangely, she didn’t even look dead.
He took her hand — and flinched.
“What?! She’s alive!”
The orderly nearly fainted.
“Call an ambulance! Get Petrovich!”
Vasily dropped his backpack and coat. She had a pulse — weak, but there!
Petrovich rushed over and got to work.
“Oh, a sleeper agent, huh? Well, we’ll bring you back to the living!”
Minutes later, the same paramedics returned — their faces stunned.
“What the hell?! Her blood pressure was zero!”
They hooked her up to IVs and machines.
Vasily and Petrovich walked them out to the ambulance.
The dog barked joyfully, tail wagging.
When the ambulance left, Vasily knelt in front of him.
“You did good, boy. You may have saved her life. Now the question is, what do I do with you?”
The dog tilted his head thoughtfully.
On impulse, Vasily said:
“Want to come home with me? My grandson Semyon loves dogs.
When your owner gets better, we’ll return you.”
The dog wagged his tail and barked — as if saying yes.
“No way,” Vasily thought. “Smart, sure, but not that smart…”
Turns out — he was.
They lived nearby — a fifteen-minute walk.
The dog walked right beside him, never looking around.
“Semyon! I’m home! And I brought company!”
The boy ran out, eyes lighting up.
“Grandpa!”
“Meet our guest. Don’t know his name, but he’s clever.”
“Where’d you find him?”
Semyon hugged the dog. Vasily tensed — strange dog.
But the dog licked the boy’s face and wagged his tail.
Vasily smiled.
“Let’s eat. I bet he’s starving.”
The dog ate a little, drank some water, then stared at Vasily.
“What’s he want?”
“Grandpa, he’s asking where he can sleep!”
Vasily laid a blanket near the armchair.
The dog lay down, head on his paws.
“He’s sad,” Semyon said.
“Of course — he almost lost his owner.”
Vasily told him the story.
Semyon sat beside the dog.
“Don’t worry. She’ll get better!”
The dog placed his head on the boy’s lap and sighed like a human.
In the morning, Vasily took him for a jog.
“What should I call you? Let’s go with Druzhok — Buddy?”
The dog barked softly — not to wake Semyon.
Later, Vasily bought a leash, food, bowls.
That afternoon, he called a doctor friend.
“Vasily! I heard about your rescue!”
“Not me, the doctors deserve the praise.”
“Unique case! Her sugar level was nearly zero, plus a heart attack — basically no signs of life!”
“How is she now?”
“Conscious. On IVs, but stable. Keeps mumbling ‘Buddy, Buddy…’ You know the dog?”
“Tell her not to worry. He’s with me. She’ll get him back.”
“You should come visit. Let her see the dog through the window — she’ll calm down.”
“Grandpa, when are we visiting the lady? I need to ask what Buddy likes best!”
“Tomorrow. I have the day off.”
When Vasily entered the hospital room, the woman turned to him.
Her green eyes were deep and full of sorrow — and hope.
“Hello…”
“Hi. I’m Vasily — I’ve got your dog.”
Her eyes warmed.
“You… you’re a true hero. I live for Buddy. He was my son’s dog… He passed a year ago.”
“I see… I lost my son and daughter-in-law too. Buddy’s become best friends with my grandson, Semyon. They’re outside playing.”
She sighed.
“I didn’t want to live. So alone… No one wanted an old dog. I had to stay for him. Then I forgot to take my meds, went to the cemetery, got sick… woke up here. And Buddy was gone.
If something had happened to him… I don’t know how I’d face my son someday.”
“I’m not crazy — it’s just easier to believe we’ll meet again someday.”
Vasily visited Marina every weekend.
Eventually, when she was strong enough, he wheeled her out into the courtyard.
Buddy jumped for joy.
But when he approached her, he did so gently — resting his head on her knees before bounding off again.
“Grandpa, how will Aunt Marina live alone? She’s still weak…”
Vasily looked at his grandson, unsure.
“Any ideas?”
“Well… We could invite her to stay. You’ll keep an eye on her, I’ll help with Buddy… Until she’s stronger.”
“Thank you, Semyon,” Vasily thought.
“Not sure she’ll agree…”
“Grandpa, just talk to her! Be firm, like always!”
Marina blushed.
“But we’re strangers… You’re taking on so much…”
“Don’t be silly, Marina! What burden? You haven’t seen how tough we are!”
“I’ve never met better people.”
They smiled.
“Marina, I’m a straightforward man. I’d like you to move in. For good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… you get it. I’m forty-six…”
“So? I’m fifty.”
When Nina heard, she said:
“Well, Vasya, see? You can do it! She’s perfect for you!”
When Marina fully recovered, the four of them went on vacation by the sea.
And quietly celebrated a wedding.
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