A cat's birth notes.
Bumping around, being adopted, abandoned, wandering in the streets, spending the unbearable winter, and then being picked up again.
I am a cat, and I also see the world.
In the leisure time of the boudoir, I lie on the flowerbed, smelling the fragrance of white snow, with my claws on the Xiang skirt, turning around to catch, embroidered into two butterflies. The coming of spring is even more pity-inducing, as it is a waste of time and money. The golden bells are ringing secretly, the mandarin duck tiles are turned over randomly, and people are thrown away.
Wrapped in salt to win the little raccoon slave,
Protect the mountain house and thousands of books.
Ashamed of the merit list of a poor family,
It's cold, there's no felt, there's no fish to sit on and eat.
This is all written about me.
I like freedom and dependence.
There are many memories that warm me, and these memories easily give me courage.
All the tenderness and cruelty, you know it, and I understand it too.