In the 1980s, I had two dogs at home. One was a common little stupid dog in the countryside, but it was not the current family pet dog. One is a larger guard dog. To be honest, I hate dogs now, especially dogs with huge bodies. Firstly, I am afraid of being bitten, and secondly, they feel dirty. Even if they look at other people's treasures, they are famous dogs that kill me, so I naturally stay away from them. I also like some very small pet dogs, but I just don't have the desire to pet them or tease them. Sometimes when I meet a very close friend who happens to be bringing his precious dog, out of politeness I will pretend that I really like his dog and listen patiently to their excited boasts about their babies. I always feel that their own children are not as well-behaved, obedient, considerate, and grateful as these precious dogs. Looking back, I thought, in fact, people nowadays are very lonely and empty, and they need a living creature that represents life to accompany them, so as to tell themselves that they are not swallowed up by loneliness and emptiness, and that they are still living wonderfully in this world. . . . . . .
Perhaps it was the death of my puppy and the beating to death of my older dog that left me with lingering fears when I was a child. The painful and heartbreaking feeling after loss made me subconsciously reject having a dog. In fact, I know that I will never have the courage to be associated with a dog again. I have never been able to forget my family in these years. Those two dogs, maybe they have been reincarnated a long time ago. I hope they will not be entrusted with being born as dogs in the next life. Writing these words after so many years can be regarded as a deep memory of them. After all, I got along with them and understood each other. They just can't speak.