On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union went down in history as the first nation to put a man-made object into orbit around the earth. The successful launch of Sputnik 1 shocked the world, and those in the USSR saw it as rallying proof of communism’s superiority over capitalism. Not to let the national fervor dwindle for even a moment, Nikita Krushchev, then leader of the Soviet Union, commissioned the Sputnik program to launch a second spacecraft a month later, to commemorate the October Revolution. This time, however, the craft would carry a living animal.

Sputnik 2, launched on November 3, further cemented Soviet dominance in the so-called Space Race. Just one month after the momentous Sputnik 1 launch–and barely a week after Sputnik 1 burned up in re-entry–the Soviets had not only launched a second satellite into orbit, but also managed to keep a passenger alive. It would be another almost three months before the United States could send even an unmanned craft into orbit.

The hurried month between the launches of Sputnik 1 and Sputnik 2 is the setting for Laika, Nick Abadzis’ recreation of the fateful journey undertaken by one unfortunate dog of the same name.

I was first introduced to Laika through a one-page webcomic by Josh R and Ryan North. Rough sketches and large, lowercase text took me through a quick tour of where Laika came from, and where she ended. A shot of Laika rocketing into space in her ship set the stage, and as the story went on, the frame zoomed in on the image of a sad looking dog with a paw vainly pressed against a small window. R and North’s version of Laika’s story was deeply moving, though I must admit that images of a sad dog could have done the job by themselves. And, as I would come to learn, the rumors North listed may have been real (I don’t know), but they were definitely not the true story.

For many, Abadzis’ graphic retelling will be the first they’ve heard of Laika. The existence of Sputnik 2 and the achievement of sending the first animal into space may be known, but probably not more than the bare facts. In this way, Laika is part history. All of the dates, times, characters, and settings are meticlously researched, as evidenced by the included two-page bibliography at the end of the book. Even the phases of the moon are accurate.

But Laika is much more than an unemotional, objective book of details accompanied by pictures. Nor is it a dramatization of history along the lines of R and North’s webcomic, using fiction rather than fact to tug heartstrings. No, Laika straddles the border of the two, proving yet again the old adage that fact is greater than fiction.

To accomplish this, Abadzis places Laika as the center of the story, but only as a mechanism to convey the humanity of those around her. Amid the propaganda and controversy surrounding Sputnik 2, the actual people involved often get flattened under the weight of historical and political objectivity. Abadzis seeks to give them weight and dimension, and succeeds wonderfully. Even the program director, who is seen as uncompassionate and ambitious by his colleagues, is revealed to be a warm-hearted person trying to add meaning to his brutal past.

The art in Laika further establishes the casual undertones of the story. Each character is shown in caricature, and the exaggerated features give a playful feel while not hiding the true identities of the portrayed. The thin, simple line work is reminiscent of Hergé’s Tintin, but much rounder and more detailed. The earthy coloring, just-less-than-real portrayals, and strong focus on the emotion of the characters ensures that Laika stays far enough removed from being a bare historical nonfiction.

Interestingly, while much of Laika’s story is fictionalized through the mind and style of Abadzis, he pays close attention to displaying accurately whatever he can. The phases of the moon (mentioned above) were all checked, and even the characters (from the scientists to Laika herself), though obviously caricatured, are quite recognizeable when compared to photographs of their real-life counterparts. Furthermore, every non-living object (Sputnik 2, R-7 booster rocket, etc.) is shown with great attention to detail.

However, the moving tale of Laika, her caretakers, and the Sputnik 2 is not the only one told. Beneath the surface of Laika is a story of animal rights and the all-too tempting chance in science to exchange ethics for sexier results. As the ending quote in Laika reveals, the meager amount of data gained from the Sputnik 2 mission was in no way worth the sacrifice required to gain it. The tragic story of Laika illuminated the terrible opportunity to mistreat animals in the name of science, and forced the public to hold scientists to a greater standard ever since.

In the end, though, Laika is a story of a poor dog, thrown to a life on the streets at an unbearably early age, then thrown to fleetingly short life in the stars. This story grants humanity to those involved in Laika’s ill-fated life, and is compassionately written and illustrated by Nick Abadzis.

Read an excerpt of Laika

NASA page on Laika, the first dog in space

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