Laika did she return to earth

[metalman]

As someone said, Me no Laika.

[Alcoblog]

Forget google ... here's what actually happened to Laika ...

(It's a bit long, so I'll have to post in two bits)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

November 3rd 1957. Baikonur Cosmodrome, Kazakhstan.

 

Nikita Khrushchev couldn't help but raise a little smile in the cosmodrome's 'Special Guest' lounge.

The noise of the rocket made barely audible, courtesy of the three inch thick glass walls and the Uzbekistan Balalaika orchestra playing a medley of Soviet bilge in the far corner.

 

Nikita sat in the deep polyvinyl sofa, one hand clasping the complimentary Smirnoff, the other holding the hand of his little boy who stared with a look of amazement as the massive Soyuz thundered off the launch pad and took its first tentative steps toward outer space.

 

'Look Douglas! … Daddy's sending Laika for space walkies!'

 

Douglas could picture his little dog, tongue hanging out, wearing her custom made canine spacesuit, as the tiny Sputnik satellite, sat on top of the gigantic Soyuz, hurtled up through the crisp Kazakhstani morning mist, majestically into the darkness of outer space and … toward the stick. Laika will love it chasing that stick, he thought … the guide stick of the Standard Fireworks 'Atomic Meltdown'. It was the largest stick you could get on a firework rocket!

(Little did he know that his father never made provision for Sputnik to come back. It was just a ploy to get a dog into space … a cruel ploy as it transpired, that Douglas would never forgive or forget.)

 

Laika was of course the family Husky … one of three dogs the Khrushchev's kept as pets. One of Douglas's earliest memories was of going with his father in the chauffeur driven Zil limousine to Bratislavski Dog's Home in downtown Moscow. Douglas himself handed over his hard earned Roubles ... the income of selling home made kites to his fellow classmates. They actually named him 'Kite Boy' … he loved it, he loved kites and he loved dogs!

Choosing a little puppy was easy … there were only three left in the entire dogs home! Something along the lines of 'They're providing food to the troops suppressing anti-communist uprisings in Hungary and Poland' (according to the Dog Direktor). Douglas had wondered in amazement (somewhat mistakenly) at the training necessary to enable a dog to cook.

 

'I laika dat one daddy! … Ooh and I laika dat one … and I laika de other!' chortled Douglas.

 

'Oh my little babooshka', laughed Khrushchev senior. 'So many laikas! … we'll call that one 'Laika', hows about 'Albina' and 'Mushka' for the other two, eh?

The rest is history! ...

 

 

 

…...........................................

 

 

 

 

July 30th 2012 (yesterday)

 

 

Douglas heard the phone ring as he was putting the key in the lock. He'd just got back from the Bolehills on Crookes. Opening the door, he chucked the kite on the sofa and picked up the receiver …

 

'Hello? … Douglas Khrushchev speaking'

 

'Douglas! … don't bloody use your proper name now you're in England! You'll give the sodding game away … walls have ears! It's Alexander calling.'

 

'Oops, sorry comrade, er … Mr. Kite speaking … how's things in Kazakhstan?'

 

'Bit damp at the moment … wet front from the Urals. Anyway, listen … the dog's turned up!Get your bags packed, you're off to Blackpool, there's a helicopter on it's way as I speak!'

 

Douglas's jaw dropped 'The dog!? … you mean Laika? … My Laika?

 

'Sure do comrade Doug … er, Mr. Kite!'

 

'You found her in Blackpool! … after all these years … how is she? I must see her … hang on, if Laika's in Blackpool, how come you're calling from Kazakhstan? I employed you to find her just after sh ...''

 

'Hang on there comrade ...' Alexander interjected ' ...It's not quite as easy as all that. She's still in space … Hubble got a pic of her floating past a couple of hours ago, about three hundred and fifty miles up … no sign of Sputnik though'

 

'She's dead?!' spluttered Douglas ' Is she a skeleton!?'

 

'No, she's just …'

 

… sure enough, Alexander's voice became virtually inaudible above the noise of the massive Mi-6 cargo helicopter attempting an inconspicuous landing in the back garden of number 43. The full downdraught of the gigantic rotors making their presence firmly known to the vegetable plot, with the clematis, nasturtiums and washing line suffering major peripheral damage. Neighbours curtains twitched in a nosey parkerish manner.

 

'Look Mr. Kite … get in the bloody 'copter and I'll fill you in on your way to Blackpool!' shouted Alex.

 

'OK Alex! … speak later! Er, why am I going to Blackpool?'

 

'Later! You'll see!' shouted Alex, and the phone went dead … mainly due to a contretemps between the rotor blades and overhead phone line.

 

 

 

Mr. Kite had never gone to Blackpool before, but knew that it was bloody windy … he'd bought Rasputin with him just in case. Rasputin was Kite's pride and joy … a six foot behemoth of a stunt kite, double stringed and with a hand embroidered picture of his childhood space-puppy Laika, adorning the underside. It also had LED's stitched in for night time flying. Rasputin had never been flown ... Douglas had made the kite to celebrate the re-unification of himself and Laika … the time now seemed close!

 

The trip from Crookes to Blackpool was pretty uneventful, the powerful Mi-6 stopping only once for a quick re-fuelling at Woodplumpton, just north of the M55 … a miserable place at best … it reminded Mr. Kite of the day he left his homeland, all those years ago …

 

 

…...........................................

 

 

November 4th 1957:

 

'Daddy?', asked the little Douglas 'When's Laika coming back from outer space?'

'Hush, my little Munchkin! … Laika will soon be back with the stick!'

 

 

November 4th 1958:

 

'Daddy? … shouldn't Laika have found the stick by now?'

 

 

November 23rd 1968 (Douglas's eighteenth birthday):

 

'Dad … thanks for the Cossack motorbike and the super-fine kite string all that, but where's Laika?'

 

'Come on now Douglas, surely you've realised by now! Laika's never coming back … I sent her on a one way ticket into space. The Sputnik was never designed for re-entry you silly clot! … it was a secret mission for a foreign pet-food cartel' chortled Nikita Khrushchev.

 

'WHAT!?' yelled Douglas 'You've known all these years and never told me!? … you *******! You're no father of mine! I'm off … I never want to lay eyes on you again!'

 

With that, Douglas packed his clothes and his kites into the saddlebags on his shiny new Cossack Ural and headed off into the sunset (and Baikonur Cosmodrome, to be more specific) to see his pal Alexander Putin.

 

Alexander was the son of an up and coming Soviet politician and had been made the head of Baikonur's helicopter fleet by his dad in an attempt to wean him off the dangerous sport of 'kite running' … a sport he'd picked up in a family holiday to Afghanistan some years earlier.

Of course, Douglas and Alexander got off like a house on fire and were the firmest of friends.

 

'… and I never want to see my dad again, Alexander' he said, having explained the whole Laika story to him.

 

'Don't worry Doug … my father has a dacha near the Bolehills in Crookes in England! He never uses it, just rents it out to students. I can get you there on board a Mi-6 … we make regular cargo deliveries of pickled cabbage to 'Just Natural' on the main road in Crookes. I'll get you a new identity as a beetroot rep … Douglas Kite would seem a rather fitting name, don't you think? Your dad'll never find you, no matter how hard he looks!' he said with a wry smile.

 

'Bloody brilliant, Alex! … chocks away! Keep in touch, I need you to help me find Laika!'

 

'No problemo, mon comrade … I always keep my promises' …

 

 

….........................................

 

 

Yesterday:

 

Douglas awoke from his reverie as the helicopter circled the monstrous Blackpool Tower and headed south to the Pleasure Beach.

At that moment, the bearded stewardess entered the cargo cabin and sauntered up to Mr. Kite with a complimentary glass of Vodka Surprise (the surprise being the decorative cabbage leaf).

 

'We're about to land now Mr. Kite ... Sir Alan is ready to meet you'

 

'Eh!? … what do you mean 'Sir Alan'?' gasped Douglas.

 

'Sir Alan Sugar, Mr. Kite … he owns the Space Centre'

 

'What the bloody hell you on about … Space Centre? … it's a pleasure Beach!'

 

'All will become clear, Mr. Kite. Alexander Putin has friends in high places!'

 

 

The Mi-6 landed in the retractable roofed dodgem car/helicopter landing pad area, amid a flurry of empty crisp packets, spent Pepsi cups and candyfloss. The cargo door opened in inches, and against the dazzling lights from the Waltzer, stood the silhouette of a man … a very smartly dressed man indeed, as Douglas's eyes became accustomed to the glare. He came forward and introduced himself …

 

'Hi Mr. Kite … Sir Alan Sugar … heard a lot about you from our mutual friend, Alexander Putin. My space ship, 'Phantom Two' awaits you … all fuelled up and ready for blast off! No time to waste … hope you've bought Rasputin with you, I've a feeling you'll be flying it later on!

 

'Wow! … Sir Alan Sugar!' said Douglas through dropped jaw. 'Can you tell me what the hell's going on … I haven't the foggiest!'

 

'Of course, Mr. Kite … I'll brief you. As you know, your Soviet space dog, Laika was spotted earlier on today, floating in space past the Hubble telescope. These images were picked up by Baikonur in Kazakhstan and spotted by your good friend Alexander Putin. As you also know, he made a promise to you many years ago to help you find your childhood dog.

As soon as he saw the footage of Laika, he called me here in Blackpool at my Space Centre. He and I are also good friends you see. Back in 1984, he gave me secret Soviet wiring diagrams of the Soyuz 'T' spacecraft … I de-cyphered them, and came up with the the Amstrad ZX Spectrum … I made a fortune!

When he called me earlier to book you in for a flight into outer space on board my Phantom Two rocket car, I was more than happy … I owe him a big favour! This will enable you to go and fetch your little dog. The Phantom Two is now … '

 

'Hang on! ... ' interjected Douglas '… Alexander told me that Laika floated past Hubble just in a space suit … no Sputnik! Also, she'd be fifty six years old by now … how can this be possible!?'

 

'Aha! … so many questions, my kite flying friend!

When your dad, Nikita Khrushchev sent your little dog into space aboard Sputnik in 1957, he was secretly working for a foreign Pet food manufacturer … Spiller's! They wanted to find out if irradiation on dog food could make it remain edible over long periods of time … where better than the hostile environment outer space? Sputnik was not only a satellite, it was also a cryogenic chamber. Your dog was awoken only for small amounts of time to test the longevity of the space dog food … Your little Laika has probably only aged by a week or so in the last fifty five years!

 

'Jeez!' said Mr. Kite 'What's with this secret space centre that doubles as Blackpool Pleasure Beach?'

 

'Branson!' spat Sir Alan ' … Nosey little buggers building his own spacecraft … he's hoping to launch later this year. I don't want him nicking any of my ideas!' he said, tapping his nose in a 'knowing' manner.

 

'Anyway,' he continued, 'Laika's only got the oxygen left in her space-dog suit, we must act quickly! … you can 'suit up' in the Phantom … bring Rasputin and follow me!

 

Mr. Kite followed Sir Alan.

 

The turnstile to the 'Rollercoaster' doubled up as a high speed elevator at the press of a button … within seconds they were at the top. Mr. Kite's eyes widened as his brain danced a little jig trying to make sense of what he saw …

 

'Wowee!, Sir Sugar … some space rocket!'

 

Sir Alan nodded in well deserved pride.

 

The Rolls Royce engined, Phantom Two spacecraft was a sight to behold. Its highly polished black paintwork glistened in the Blackpool sun, a strong whiff of finest quality Connoly leather emanating from the luxurious cockpit within, the chrome radiator grille boasting a retractable solid gold statuette of Buzz Aldrin. Instead of the glass partition, dividing the front and rear compartments of the spacecraft, a hastily (but expertly fitted) silver mesh dog screen had been installed … everything reeked of quality craftsmanship, no expense spared!

 

'Bloody hell Sir Alan! … this must've cost you a bob or two, bet the insurance is a bit h...'

 

'No time for small talk Mr. Kite' said Sir Sugar, opening the walnut and leather panelled pilots door 'Get in and fasten your seatbelt! … controls are just like a car. Don't worry about launching it … I'm doing it manually with my ZX Spectrum Rocket Launch app in the turnstile control room … bon voyage!'

 

Mr. Kite wiped his shoes and got in, placing Rasputin in the door compartment normally used for umbrellas … the door closed silently behind him. Fastening the safety belt, the side window glided shut automatically … the massive 6.7 litre engine roared silently into life. Through the blacked out side window, Mr. Kite could just make out Sir Sugar nimbly manipulating the ZX's keyboard.

The inboard Bose communication system flashed on, and Mr Kite heard in full stereo surround sound …

 

'Five, four, three, two, one … YOU'RE FIRED!'

 

The Roller coasted down the rollercoaster … slowly at first, but then picking up speed. He screamed as it came to the top of a metal crest and dived for what seemed like hundreds of feet, with a 360 degree twist in the middle. At the bottom of the drop, the funicular cogs of the rollercoaster cut in and lifted the spacecraft to an even higher apex.

The custom chrome plated bogey wheels of the Phantom looked like CD's on 'fast forward' as it dropped once more … toward the 'Loop de Loop'!

 

'Aaaagh!' screamed Mr. Kite, as his internal organs struggled to maintain their correct position 'Let me out!'

 

… Too late! The Phantom Two hit the Loop de Loop at over 1000mph and still accelerating!

 

'I'm gonna die!' he yelled, battling vainly with the laws of centrifugation.

 

He passed out as the Phantom Two was slung-shot off the Loop de Loop and into outer space.

 

 

To be continued ...

[Alcoblog]

... continued ...

 

'Blackpool Control to Major Mr. Kite. Blackpool Control to Major Mr. Kite. Put your space suit on and may dog's love be with you (he sang) … wakey-wakey!'

 

Mr. Kite shook his head and opened his eyes,

 

'Jeez! Where am I!' he spluttered.

 

'Don't worry Mr. Kite … space-sickness. You're in low geostationary Earth orbit, three hundred and fifty miles up from the Gulag Archipelago. It's roughly where Laika was last seen.'

 

'It's bloody dark up here! … all I can see is stars and a great big round thing …' said Mr. Kite, getting his bearings.

 

'Yeah … that'll be the Moon' said Sir Sugar nonchalantly 'Turn the headlights on and put your space suit on too … you'll be needing it!'

 

'What spacesuit?'

 

'The Armani one on the coat hanger in the passenger side … you'll need your Portable Life support System too.'

 

'What? … this fancy backpack that says Louis Vuitton on it'

 

'That'll be the one!' laughed Sir Sugar.

 

'OK … done that' (minutes later) 'Now … how the hell do I find Laika?

 

'Press the Sat-nav button … that'll navigate the Phantom to the satellite, Laika can't have got very far from it!'

 

'Ok!' (click) 'Jeez!, you're right ... the Phantom's moving! … Wow! … I can see Sputnik in the distance, a big football shaped thing with the door open … there's dog poo floating out of it … Laika's poo! It's getting blown all over the place!'

 

'That'll be the solar wind, there was a big flare yesterday … can you see Laika?'

 

'It's massive out here, she could be anywhere … I don't know where to start looking!'

 

'Thought so … that's why Alexander and I insisted you take Rasputin with you! Get out of the spaceship and fly the kite in the solar wind … turn the LED's on, on it. She should see your kite and come floating excitedly toward you!'

 

'Bloody brilliant Sir Sugar! You think of everything! …'

 

 

Sure enough, Mr. kite closed the visor to the pressurised Armani spacesuit, opened the Phantom Two's driver's side door, removing Rasputin from the umbrella compartment, and took his first tentative breaststrokes in outer space. Being an expert kite flyer, he quickly assembled the impressive kite by clipping the two bamboo bars together and turned the 'night flying' LED's on.

 

'First time you've ever flown, my beautiful Rasputin … go find Laika for me!'

 

Holding the kite above his helmet, he let the string out … WHOOOSH!

 

'Aaaagh! Stop!stop!' yelled Mr Kite through the suits intercom.

 

'What's up? … why're you yelling?'

 

'It's dragging me all over the bloody place! Think I'm heading toward Mars!' screamed Mr. Kite.

 

'Bugger! … didn't think of that … you should've tied yourself to the Phantom!'

 

BANG!

 

'Ouch!'

 

'What was that?' asked Sir Sugar, in Blackpool.

 

'I've hit something … it's like a dirty great big camera, think I've just accidentally snapped an important looking bit off it!'

 

'Aaah … Hubble! Hold onto it and tie Rasputin to it, Laika must be very near!' said Sir Sugar.

 

Mr. kite did as he was told. As he was finishing tying the kite to a convenient antenna, he noticed a reflection in the telescopes large 22inch mirrored lens.

At first, it appeared as a small dot … it grew bigger. He turned to look … the dot was a spacesuit … a spacesuit with a tail wagging out of it! The spacesuit was coming straight for Mr. Kite … little legs, pounding through the nothingness … Mr. Kite could make out a furry little face through the helmets visor … a smiley face with a wagging tongue!

 

'LAIKA!' screamed Mr. Kite in jubilation.

 

'What? … Hurrah!, Rasputin worked! ' chortled an ebullient Sir Sugar.

 

'Laika! … I've found her! She's coming straight for me! My dog, my dog! … after all these years I've found her! … come to Douggie! I'll never let you go into space ever again, I love you Laika! … Laika … Laika? … LAIKA!!?.

 

'What's up now Mr. Kite!?' said a genuinely concerned Sir Sugar.

 

'She's started thrashing around in space … she's twisting and convulsing! She looks petrified … there's something wrong!' screamed Mr. Kite.

 

'Oh ****! … she's run out of oxygen, I told you time was of the essence.' gasped Sir Sugar.

 

'What!? … I must save her … I love her!'

 

'I'm afraid it's too late Mr. Kite … there's no way to give her oxygen, there isn't any!'

 

'I'm going to save her Sir Sugar … she can't die now! Not after all this time!'

 

Mr. Kite let go of Hubble and started swimming over to his little space suited dog. Tears streaming from his eyes and with outstretched gloves, he reached the little dog and peered through her visor.

The little dog appeared to be losing consciousness, but on feeling the touch Mr. Kite, she opened her little eyes, and with a loving look of recognition and tried to give Mr. Kite a sloppy kiss through her steaming up visor.

 

'I'm not gonna let you die, my little dog … I'm gonna save you! You can have some of my oxygen' he softly spoke, reaching for the release clips of his space helmet.

 

'NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!' squealed Sir Sugar in paroxysms of terror.

 

Mr Kite took a deep breath, disconnected the communication lead and took off the helmet ...

and tried to speak his last words to the little Laika …

 

… But in space, no one can hear you scream.

 

---------- Post added 10-05-2013 at 14:08 ----------

 

Well ... that seems to have shut everybody up!

 

Guess I've correctly answered the O/P's question ... never believe what you read on Wikipedia, just ask me!