A warm May day wrapped the park in golden light. Lyova and Misha, both wearing identical school trousers and blue shirts, sat on the grass, and nearby, stretched out at full puppy length, lay Rex — a large, shaggy Alabai with a wet nose and kind, almost human eyes.
“Look what he can do!” Lyova exclaimed proudly, extending his palm. “Rex, give me your paw!”
The puppy immediately jumped up, joyfully nudged his nose into the hand, and clumsily placed his massive paw on it. Misha laughed, and sensing the fun, Rex dashed over, knocked him onto his back, and began tickling his face with affectionate licks. The boys squealed with delight, tangled together in a wild, playful heap where it was impossible to tell where the dog ended and the boy began.
“You spoil him too much,” Misha said, out of breath, smiling as he brushed grass from his hair.
“How else?” Lyova brushed sand off his knee. “He’s my friend. And besides — the smartest dog in the world.”
Rex, as if agreeing, nudged Misha’s hand with his nose and wagged his tail happily over the grass.
“It’s a pity I never had a dog,” Misha said softly, stroking the puppy’s fluffy head.
“But now you have me and Rex,” Lyova patted his friend on the shoulder. “Tomorrow I’ll bring him treats from home. Let him be happy too.”
The sun slowly tilted toward sunset. Lyova stood up and carefully brushed off his pants.
“I have to go. Dad gets worried if I’m late. But you come tomorrow, okay? I’ll definitely be waiting.”
Misha nodded, but inside, a strange premonition tightened his chest. He watched his friend leave, leading a bouncing Rex behind him. Staying alone on the empty clearing was always a little sad. Misha headed home, hoping tomorrow would bring something good, though anxiety lingered in his soul.
The apartment door creaked. Misha carefully entered, taking off his shoes at the threshold. The air was heavy with the smell of medicine, old wood, and a vague mixture of sorrow and hope. On the couch, wrapped in a blanket, lay his mother — Marina. She held a book, but her gaze wandered out the window.
“Hi, Mom,” Misha said quietly, trying not to disturb her thoughts.
“Back already? How was your walk?” Marina smiled, tired but with a warm spark in her eyes.
“Great. Lyova showed me how Rex gives his paw. He’s such a funny puppy.”
“It’s good you have a friend,” Marina gently stroked her son’s hand. “You know I’m always here.”
Other times came to mind. When Dad brought ice cream home, when the apartment smelled of fried potatoes, when they watched movies and laughed together. It was warm, it was peaceful.
Then everything changed. One day Mom slipped on the stairs and hurt herself badly. Hospital, white walls, doctors in masks, anxious talks. The home became different: medicine appeared, silence, the nighttime rustling of pills in their boxes. Dad was home less and less, then just packed his things and left, slamming the door. Marina cried, and Misha didn’t know how to hug her so the pain would go away.
Grandma Valentina Nikolaevna came over, scolded Dad, baked pies, but didn’t stay long. So the family shrank to two — mother and son. They learned to survive together, holding on to each other.
The next day Lyova came back different. His usually lively face was tense, worry in his eyes.
“Things are bad at home,” he said quietly as Misha approached. “Dad’s leaving on a business trip, and Inga is moving in. She’s terrible. Loves no one but Dad. She scolds me, even Tamara Semyonovna.”
“Maybe she just isn’t used to it yet?” Misha tried to comfort, though he didn’t believe it himself.
“No,” Lyova shook his head. “She does it on purpose. She can’t stand Rex either. Says he’s dirty trouble. But Dad gave him to me for my birthday. I wanted a dog for so long!”
He fell silent, staring into the distance, then perked up:
“You know, at night Rex quietly climbs into my bed. We’re like real brothers. But now Inga forbids everything. She won’t even let me walk him.”
The boys were silent, each lost in his own thoughts.
Lyova left earlier than usual and didn’t come for several days. Misha wondered what had happened but hoped his friend would return soon.
Misha couldn’t get the thought out of his head: sooner or later, Lyova would have to walk Rex. One day he set his alarm for five in the morning and went to the river. The park was empty, only birds chirped among the bushes.
He hid behind a bush and waited. Soon a silver car pulled up to the shore. A tall woman with a bright scarf, cold eyes, and sharp makeup got out. Without looking back, she pulled a heavy bag from the trunk, which oddly moved, and with effort threw it into the water.
Misha froze. His heart sank. But without thinking, he plunged into the icy water, found the bag, and pulled it ashore. Shivering with fear, he untied the knot. Inside, with tape over its muzzle, lay Rex — scared but alive.
“Quiet, little one,” Misha gently removed the sticky tape, pressing the puppy to himself. “It’s okay. I won’t leave you.”
Rex trembled but licked Misha’s cheek. At that moment, the boy made a decision: he would never give this dog away.
At home, Marina met her son with concern — there stood a wet, shivering Misha holding a huge puppy wrapped in a blanket.
“What happened?” Marina hurried to him worriedly.
“It’s Rex… someone tried to drown him!” Misha sobbed, stroking the puppy’s fluffy head. “I saw the woman throw him in the river. I couldn’t leave him there…”
Marina knelt down, hugged her son, and pressed the trembling dog to herself.
“You did the right thing,” she whispered. “But now we have to find out everything. Who was that woman? Did you remember her?”
“Yes. Tall, with a bright scarf. In a silver car. We need to tell Lyova. He has to know.”
Marina sighed, stroking Misha’s hair.
“We’ll keep Rex here. Until we figure things out, he’ll live with us.”
The next morning Misha went to Lyova’s house. He stood a long time behind the wrought-iron fence, watching the windows. Soon Lyova came out onto the porch with his father — Herman Arkadyevich. Stern, in an impeccable suit, he tried to calm his son.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Maybe Rex just ran away. We’ll find him for sure.”
“No!” Lyova clenched his fists. “It’s Inga! I saw her angry at him yesterday. And today he’s gone!”
Herman frowned but shook his head:
“Don’t make things up. Inga wouldn’t do that.”
Then Misha couldn’t hold back and ran out of hiding:
“I saw everything!” he shouted. “The woman in the bright scarf, in the silver car. She threw a bag into the river, and Rex was inside! I saved him. Now he’s at my place.”
Herman sharply turned to his son:
“Are you sure it was Inga?”
Lyova nodded, wiping away tears. At that moment a silver car pulled up to the house. Inga stepped out in her signature scarf. Seeing them, she froze.
“Inga,” Herman’s voice was icy, “we need to talk. Now. Let’s go inside.”
She tried to say something, but Herman was firm.
“Wait here,” he told the boys and disappeared behind the door.
Fifteen minutes later he returned, pale but resolute.
“Where’s Rex?” he asked Misha. “Show me.”
At home, Marina met them reservedly. Herman suddenly recognized her and unexpectedly smiled:
“Marina? Is that really you? We went to school together. Remember the wooden doghouses in the yard and the apples from the neighbor’s garden?”
Marina was slightly embarrassed but smiled too:
“Of course, I remember. You were always the top student.”
While the adults recalled their school days, the boys and Rex had a real celebration of joy: running, laughing, hugging. Everyone was thankful that the puppy was alive, and the friendship only grew stronger.
In the kitchen, Marina and Herman continued their conversation.
“Sometimes it seems life will never get better,” Marina said quietly. “And then suddenly someone appears, and everything begins to change.”
Herman nodded, looking at her carefully:
“The main thing is not to give up. Everything can start anew.”
Their eyes met longer than usual — there was more in them than memories.
Herman gave the boys some money:
“Buy something tasty for tea. And come to us. Today we have a celebration!”
Misha and Lyova rushed to the store, returning with chips, ice cream, and candy. At Herman’s house, Marina helped Tamara Semyonovna cut salad, and the housekeeper baked her famous pies. At the table, everyone laughed, shared stories, and no one even remembered Inga — her things had disappeared as if she had never been.
The atmosphere was warm, homely, almost magical. It seemed all difficulties were behind.
Late at night, while the adults still sat drinking tea, Misha and Lyova settled in the room.
“Do you think if our parents were together, we’d be better off?” Lyova asked thoughtfully.
“Of course,” Misha smiled. “You’d be my brother, and Rex would be our dog.”
“Let’s test their feelings,” Lyova conspiratorially suggested. “We’ll write a note: we ran away and will only come back if they agree to get married.”
The boys giggled, wrote the message, and carefully placed it on the kitchen table.
In the morning, Marina couldn’t find her son. The house was in a bustle. Herman searched every room until he noticed the note.
Reading it, he laughed:
“Those rascals… Looks like we have no choice.”
They went outside, and Herman saw the boys behind the bushes.
“Well,” he smiled, “shall we make a deal?”
Marina nodded shyly, but hope and joy shone in her eyes.
Tamara Semyonovna, laughing, called the kids home:
“Hey, rascals! Come back! The adults have already decided everything!”
Misha and Lyova ran to their parents, Rex jumped around, barking happily. Everyone hugged and laughed, and outside, as if especially for this moment, the sun shone brightly.
And life became kind again.