The Last Words of the Old Dog Sanmao
by Jiang Zidan
About This Novel
That afternoon, if someone were walking through a certain street in this southern coastal city, they would see me and my owner, a frail dog and a sturdy middle-aged man, sitting on the stone steps of the street in a dependent manner. To be more precise, I depended on him because I felt that my thin body was as light as a withered leaf and could be blown away from the tree of life by the wind of death at any time. My master had obviously realized this and kept hugging me with his warm arms, hoping that I could retain a little more vitality in my cold torso. We sat in silence like this, him smoking and me panting. On this ordinary afternoon, no one paid attention to us, and no one knew that we were experiencing the moment of separation and death.
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