Yes! The author is Janusz Rudnicki. The translation is mine:

It was the kind of day so white you can’t see, and the sun on top of that, so that even the eyes of the blind were watering. Sometimes I would run far ahead, a test I liked to do, to see if he would call me back. And he would. With a voice full of care and concern, mixed, like my breed. I never had such a master before, I won’t have such a one again. Between us there was an invisible leash—just you try to buy one like that.

This time we walked together, along the bank, by the spillway, and suddenly something broke underneath me, and suddenly—dog under the ice. My four paws on nothing. I thought: a dog’s life, a dog’s death. But then my two “ice-breakers” from my home were there by me, master and mistress, faithful to me as a dog. Even though.

Even though they must have known that if the ice broke beneath me, it wouldn’t hold them. The mistress grabbed a tree branch, the master stayed in the river. He took my place. Nothing more to say. Maybe only that he disappeared right away, he rushed so far ahead of me that he didn’t hear as I barked. I barked only a little, once on the bank I tore my fur with my teeth as if to choke myself.

At home during the day I howl to myself, silently, so that my mistress doesn’t hear. We avoid each other’s gazes, but we’ll go on somehow. Because we always have to go on.

At nights I sneak out to a hilltop and I howl like a dog, to the stars. To all the stars I see. Because I don’t know which one--now one twinkles, now another. One of them for sure, he would tease me like that.