Cat

In the afternoon, when I came home, I saw a white cat lying on the grate of the basement window. It seems to be ill. As I walked towards him, his back was to me, and he lay low, his stomach pressed against the bar. I had never seen a cat so cautiously lying on its stomach, its PAWS clinging to the iron bar. It was trembling all over, its head moving slightly, its ears moving constantly, as if following every sound.

He heard my footsteps, and every time my foot touched the ground it gave him a spasm. The cat was terribly afraid, but it did not run away or turn its head. Its soft fur swirled as the wind blew. What a lovely cat it is.

When I got in front of it, I realized that someone had gouged out its eyes. In the cat's small face, there are two bright red narrow slit, the blood is still flowing, it desperately to the ground, as if to bury themselves. Maybe it wants to kill itself? In short, the cat, who had lost his eyes, looked very suspicious. It no longer dared to take a step forward or back. Its face the two bright red narrow slit, like a woman put on lipstick mouth. I watched it for a while and then went home.

I came home to an empty house. Before I saw the cat, I felt very hungry and thought I had a box of snacks at home, but now I felt nauseous. Besides, I felt numb, and my mind was empty and empty.

The sky outside was overcast and the room was dark. But the door to the balcony was open, and it was brighter there. I went up to the balcony and looked down. The cat had climbed to the edge of the fence platform at some point and was cautiously dipping down with its front PAWS. The fence platform is about 20 centimeters off the ground, not much longer than a cat's front legs. It could not get to the bottom, so it lay there for a long time to test, its claws like a basket of water. As I stood there, I felt a sudden desire to jump off the third floor. I'm going back to my room.

When it was getting dark, I went out on the balcony again. Through the pale blue haze, I saw the cat still there, its front PAWS probing the void. The half-foot-high platform must have been a terrible abyss in the cat's agony. I don't know why it refuses to give up that painful and hopeless attempt. Then he raised his head, threw his empty, blood-stained eyes to the sky, opened his mouth, and let out a silent scream. I knew he must be begging the good God of cats to save him.

When I was a child, I was just like it. If I broke something worth more than 20 cents, I was afraid of being beaten, so I would knead its pieces together again and again. I cried painfully in my heart and begged that it would grow up automatically. I always hoped that some good god would turn it into a good one when I wasn't looking, but none of them succeeded.

Now that cat is just as stupid as I was when I was a child. Its little white head bobbed up and down. It was pain that led him to believe in God without instruction.

At night I couldn't sleep, my heart was pounding, and the house was dark and frightening. I can't for the life of me figure out why anyone would gouge out a cat's eyes. Don't cats scream? Doesn't the blood bleed? Don't cats have clear eyes? When you dig one out, isn't there a bloody hole? How can you dig up another one? So, how can a person gouge out a cat's eye? I retched several times. I got out of bed and went out onto the balcony. A dim street lamp below showed the cat on the platform, crawling slowly along the concrete edge of the platform, poking out its PAWS. He climbed up to the wall, squatted carefully, groped with one front paw, then turned with great difficulty and crawled back up like a gecko. It just keeps crawling back and forth. I thought the cat's world consisted of nothing more than a narrow passage, with an abyss on either side and a precipice on the other, and two flaming rods nailed where the eyes used to be.

At three o 'clock in the morning, the cat meowed at the window. It meowed dreadfully. I covered my head with a quilt, and the screams came into my ears.

When I went out in the morning, the cat was still lying there, screaming, and the blood had dried from its empty eye sockets, making it less frightening, but its shrill cry cancelled out all the benefit.

I lived that day in fear. Just feel that heaven and earth faint, the world has a bright red wound burst open, is constantly bleeding. The atrocity was committed in broad daylight, but the reason was unknown, and there was not even an excuse.

I only know that there is a ready-made excuse that it is a cat and not a man, but that will not make a scar over the wound.

On my way home from work in the afternoon, I remembered a few more gruesome incidents, such as throat cutting and being buried alive. There are excuses for these things, but they all miss the point and do not explain the atrocities themselves.

When I reached the platform, I saw that the cat was dead. Its body had been thrown into the corner, much smaller than it had been when it was alive. I let out a long breath and felt much lighter. I had put on a thick cotton-padded jacket this morning, and now I felt hot. I took off my cotton-padded jacket and went upstairs, whistling loudly. My fiancee was waiting for me at home and made a lot of food, but I didn't think it was enough, so I went out to buy beer.

Returning with two bottles of beer, I passed the platform and saw the apparition of the cat lying on its stomach, its empty eyes still bleeding and shivering pitifully. I felt a jump in my stomach and crept to him with a twist.

On the way up the stairs, I suddenly remembered that something was wrong. The dead cat was white, but the phantom I saw was a yellow cat. When I got to the door, I realized that it was another cat with its eyes out, and my body shook violently.

When I got home, I was quickly drenched in cold sweat. She asked me what was wrong. I couldn't explain it to her except that I wasn't feeling well. So she put me to bed with three quilts and four coats. She ate the whole table and drank two by herself