It's a mother and son. Like other dogs in the village, it didn't catch up for a few years. When the dog was born, and which house he ended up staying in, it wasn't up to him. One year around July, before the rice was harvested, our family ran out of rice and could only eat potato at every meal. In those days, people spoke weakly, and the dog's bark was not loud.
The black dog became pregnant that year. At the end of September, he gave birth to four puppies. His nest used to be at the gate. After the puppy was born, his grandfather moved the kennel into the firewood house. After giving birth to the puppy, the black dog had a deflated belly all day long, leaving only the skeleton, and it seemed that even the intestines, livers, stomachs and lungs had become puppies. He became more vicious and would never allow strangers to approach the firewood house. Every time I played with the puppy, he was very vigilant, for fear that I would break his baby.
The black dog has been confinement, but his life has not improved, and he still has a bowl of potato at every meal. When we ate, he dared not come to the table to ask for food, so he could only stand outside the door, his eyes rolling with a pair of chopsticks. A few times he took advantage of the time to enter the house, and was kicked in the somersault by his father. He whimpered in pain, and hurriedly ran away with his tail tucked between his tails. Occasionally I threw a potato, and he always jumped up impatiently, caught it in one mouth, and devoured it.
After the puppy was full moon, relatives came to my house to adopt the puppy. The first time I came, my father entered the firewood house with a bowl of potato and threw a piece on the ground. The black dog stood up with a wagging tail and rushed to eat it; the father threw another piece outside the house, and the black dog ran over to eat it again. In this way, it was unknowingly led away. By the time it finished eating the potato and returned to the nest, the puppy had already been taken away. For a few days after that, the black dog was restless, walking around in front of and behind the house, but he did not dare to go far. Soon, when someone came to catch the puppy again, the father repeated his old trick. At first, the black dog said nothing and didn't leave the nest, just stared at the potato on the ground, its tongue stretched out long, and saliva came out of its mouth. After a while, it was no match for the temptation of food, left the nest, and was teased farther and farther by its father, so the puppy was taken away again.
After the puppy was taken away, the black dog became more irritable and vigilant. In addition to eating, he stayed in the kennel all day long.
At that time, almost every family in the village had dogs, and there were many and cheap dogs. If no one adopted the puppy of the full moon, it would be put into a snakeskin pocket and thrown on the way to the market. The puppy was thrown outside and could not find its way home at all. If no one picked it up, it would starve to death or be carried away by an eagle.
The remaining two puppies were no longer wanted, and the father said they had to be thrown away. When he said this, the black dog was sitting outside the door with the puppy. By then, the puppy had already learned to eat, and the black dog stopped fighting for the potato I threw on the ground, and always gave it to the puppy.
When my father said he was going to throw the puppy, I objected at the time, and I was more vigilant, watching his every move every day. Just as a black dog can't fight my father, I can't fight him either. He took advantage of me after school, put the puppy in a snakeskin pocket, and really threw it on the road. When I got home from school, I watched the empty kennel start crying and threatening not to eat, but I couldn't fight hunger. After dinner, I went out to feed the dog, only to find that the black dog was gone.
It snowed that night, and I lay under the covers, unable to sleep, worried about my two puppies. Early the next morning, I went to the kennel again, but it was still empty.
It snowed for three days in a row, and the heavy snow buried the road in the village, and even the trees were crushed.
Three days passed, and the black dog never came back.
On the fourth morning, my sister and I went to school. We were wearing cotton-padded clothes and pants, and our father's new boots. The snow was knee-deep, and we walked cautiously like two moving snails.
As I passed the grove in front of the house, I saw a mass in the grass. At first glance, I thought it was a fertilizer bag, but when I walked over, I realized it was our dog.
When the black dog saw us, there was a low, hoarse voice in his throat, like a long-lost relative who met at once, and couldn't help but hug his head and cry. His mouth was stained with blood, and the blood had solidified. I reached out and touched it, and there was still a hint of heat on his body. The puppy curled up in the black dog's arms, shivering with cold, and whimpering in a low voice. I held the puppy in my arms, and the black dog's eyes suddenly filled with pleading. He struggled to stand up, only to kick his legs a few times. He couldn't bark, and even his throat seemed to freeze. These days, he must have been so focused on looking for the puppy that he didn't have time to find food. It called all the way, and finally found one, and the other never found it.
I hurried home and called my grandfather. He put the two dogs in the basket and told us to go to school. I was so distracted in class that day that I ran home quickly after school.
All I saw was the puppy. The black dog died as soon as he came home, and his grandfather buried him in the bamboo forest next to the house. When I went to the bamboo forest, the puppy followed behind, and as soon as he saw the mound of earth, he ran quickly over, constantly digging the soil with his front paws, as if trying to dig out his mother. After digging for a while, he looked up at me, his little dark eyes motionless, as if begging me for help.
I crouched down and picked up the puppy, it looked at me and "woof", then turned its head to the grave and "woof". My heart seemed to be bitten by something, and it hurt for a while.
I walked back with the puppy in my arms, and it turned around and let out another "woof" and a long tail sound, like a child's whimper, followed by a moment of silence...