Laika Day

Having Haley curled up on her pillow next to my desk, snoring merrily along in her sleep, brought Nora's reminder early this morning home. On the Old Calendar, reflecting dates and holidays and significant events from Earth that Was, today was 3 November. Just another day for more or less everyone in the 'Verse.

Only, it wasn't.

With several thousand years of recorded history, albeit with some gaps and omissions, and only 365 days in a standard Earth that Was year, there are bound to be multiple events with significance to multiple groups on pretty much every day on the calendar. That's just statistics. Like the random chance of having two people in the same class with the same birthday. On most calendars, there's nothing special about 3 November. But 3 November, 1957, was the first time a living creature from Earth flew into space.

Her name's remembered as Laika. She was a mongrel dog the Russians found in Moscow, and they sent her into space partially for Science and partially as a publicity stunt. I can barely imagine what it must have been like back then. Clawing into orbit on chemically fueled rockets that were built so light, they were likely to fall apart from their own thrust. Some of them did fall apart in flight. Or exploded at launch. Or tumbled out of the sky and killed their crew.

It was a different time then. Primitive technologies and political systems on the brink of global war. The politics may not be so unlike they are today, but now days when your dog flies into orbit she's probably curled up in your lap, or in the galley begging for snacks, not strapped into a metal capsule scared and alone.

It's so easy for us, now, to forget. But for some strange reason, I don't. There's nothing special to do on Laika day, except maybe give your favorite dog an extra treat.

And to remember Laika.