Chapter 74 Big Yellow's Dog-Raising Diary: This is my ordinary dog life, and I like it very much.
In my third year with the Yao family, the woman who had raised me and my litter of babies became pregnant. Being the first litter, she had little experience and was eating her meal when she suddenly started vomiting. She was terrified and muttered to herself, "Strange, I can't eat... Oh no, oh no, this must be something serious!"
Indeed, she has a good appetite year after year, eating more than me in one meal and five meals a day, yet she doesn't gain much weight. Humans are such wasteful animals!
Her servant, who was always by her side, happened to be away from home that day, having gone out hunting.
She vomited everything up and was terrified. She hurriedly went to find someone from the first few houses in the alley to see a doctor. I flicked my tail, stretched leisurely, and followed her.
"Sister-in-law You said... she said... it's a pregnancy sign?"
She emerged from that house, which always smelled of grass, and only then did she realize she was pregnant. She gently stroked her belly, her face filled with disbelief. Looking at her dazed expression, I shook my head.
Actually, I knew even before she did.
I had noticed long ago that her scent had changed.
I'm happy. Humans are strange creatures. Unlike us dogs, who have distinct seasons for rest and mating... humans seem to be "matting" every single night!
I used to be a stray dog wandering the world, never cared for by anyone, and originally didn't know much about how people celebrated their spring.
How did I find out about this? I'm very responsible.
Even though my puppies have grown up, I still lead them on a patrol in the yard at night, teaching them not to be playful or lax, and to know that they must protect their territory and the people in it every day.
From the courtyard gate, we would walk along the wall several times, sniffing for any suspicious or unfamiliar smells, catching a few bold mice, and marking the corners of the wall with urine.
Only after doing all this can you lie down in peace.
Therefore, I often heard and smelled those sounds and smells... the commotion of her and her servants "making merry in spring".
It's not that I want to hear it; my ears and nose are naturally so sensitive, what can I do?
Despite her diligent efforts in procreation, she only conceived a year later, which I truly don't understand. Once, I saw my husband at home, so I went over and sniffed him. His scent was normal; why was he so ineffective?
The man looked down at me, thinking I was craving something, got up and got me a piece of dried quail, casually scratching my chin. I squinted.
Yes, thank you. It feels good to be scratched, and the quail tastes good too.
As I chewed on the fragrant dried quail, I still couldn't understand: how could he be so useless?
What I don't understand is that the time it takes for a woman to get pregnant is so long it could kill a dog! I waited and waited, from the spring when willow catkins were flying, to the summer when cicadas were chirping, before her belly was just starting to show; then from the sweltering late summer, to the Mid-Autumn Festival when osmanthus blossoms were fragrant, before her belly became round and bulging; and then to the early winter when the north wind was strong and everything was withered... She was finally going to give birth to her first litter of babies.
The weather grew colder day by day. She seemed a little scared, often holding me close and whispering, asking me if it hurt when I gave birth to my puppies. Of course it hurt, but luckily my litter only had three, so it was quick.
I barked softly at her twice, then nudged her hand with the tip of my nose.
She seemed to know I was telling her, "Don't be afraid, I'm here." Her expression softened, she ruffled my hair, and then bent down to hug me: "Dahuang, you're so good. How can you be so good? Good dog, my good dog..." She ruffled my fur until it was all matted, but I was very happy inside.
He couldn't help but make humming noises through his nose.
Humans can be so clingy to dogs, and they're also good at sweet talk; sometimes it's really hard to resist.
Even so, as the north wind blew harder and the weather turned freezing cold, I became increasingly anxious. Looking up and inhaling the dry, biting air, I thought to myself, "It's probably going to snow."
It's really worrying for the dog... Sigh... Humans are so careless, not knowing when to start the spring season and dragging out the pregnancy for so long, that's why the first batch of pups was born in winter.
In the dead of winter, newborn puppies are so hard to raise! Before I met her, I had been living away from home and had also given birth to a litter. They were born in early autumn, and I nursed them well until they grew teeth and were weaned, but after winter came, several of them froze and starved to death.
Of the last litter of six pups... I only managed to raise two to adulthood.
Later, I chose two seemingly reliable and wealthy families, and carried the cubs by the scruff of their necks to them. After some time, I went back to check on them and, seeing that they were both alive, I left.
Fortunately, humans and dogs are different. They live in groups and help each other out, and they don't fight each other just because the smell of other people in their territory is mixed.
She and her male companion, along with the other animals in the courtyard, were all skilled hunters. This winter, like every year, they went out every day, taking turns bringing back "black stones" for starting a fire, meat, and various kinds of edible "grass."
Outside, water freezes instantly, but inside it's warm, with even the base of the walls and floor tiles radiating heat.
I gradually felt relieved.
After it started snowing, I stayed by her door without leaving for a moment.
I could smell a trace of blood on her; she didn't know it yet, she was about to give birth.
I had originally designated the larger house diagonally opposite the Yao family's house as my own territory, and I would patrol it every day. But now I can't care about that anymore, so I sent my lackeys there instead.
Her male companion stopped going out hunting and stayed by her side like I did.
The only difference was that he was inside the house, and I was outside.
Giving birth seems to be much more difficult for humans than for dogs. She was in pain all night, while I whimpered and howled outside, and the grumpy old man and I were so anxious that we scratched at the wall.
Then, I finally heard the baby's loud cry. Hmm, very strong, but... why is there only one? I sniffed the air hard, and indeed, it was just a new smell of newborn life that I had never smelled before.
I'm increasingly puzzled: she was pregnant for so long, but only gave birth to one child?
As the official ignored the obstruction and entered the delivery room, I also pressed my chin against the threshold, craning my neck to peek inside. The smell of blood and sweat hadn't yet dissipated, but her breathing was even and steady, as if she had fallen asleep from exhaustion. So I rested my chin on the threshold and quieted down.
Before long, my ears perked up again.
The man was crying. His voice was suppressed in his throat, a very low sob, probably inaudible to the human ear, but I heard it very clearly. I even heard the tears sliding down his cheeks, accumulating on his chin, and finally falling softly onto the back of his hand.
He was very sad.
After a long while, I could still hear him slowly leaning over the edge of the bed, gently stroking her hand, his voice low and hoarse: "We won't have any more children... This one daughter is enough for us."
I tilted my head, incredulous, so... there really was only one?
Before, I was always out there struggling to survive, busy finding food and fighting for territory. I had never witnessed human life and reproduction so closely before. Now I realize that humans only have one child per litter.
And it has no hair!
After the sun set and rose again, about thirty times in total, my wife finally became lively and energetic again. Her appetite had actually returned before she gave birth, and now she enjoys everything she eats, feeding her hairless only human baby, whom she had given birth to with great difficulty, until he was strong and round.
But the male still didn't go hunting.
My friend told me that he took a long leave of absence and has been staying home to help take care of someone else's baby.
What is a long holiday? I don't know.
Even if the servants didn't go hunting, they still had more meat and grass than they could eat. Even black stones would be delivered to their door by others. Although I didn't understand why, I felt at ease since food and water were plentiful.
Although I have lived with the Yao family for three years, I still worry about not having anything to eat every winter. Perhaps it is because I can hardly forget the days when I couldn't find any food in the heavy snow.
My wife adored her hairless little puppy. Once it could walk again and had mostly recovered, she specially brought it to me in a wicker basket, proudly showing it off: "Big Yellow, look at my daughter! How beautiful she is! Absolutely the most beautiful girl in the world! Look at her nose and mouth, doesn't she look like Lin Wen'an? But those big eyes look like mine! Aren't they big? It's no wonder I ate so many grapes; I knew how to pick the best ones!"
I peeked over and saw that it had big eyes, but its whole body was smooth and chubby. I knew that people only have hair on their heads, but this little thing had very little hair on its head.
A bit disappointing. It has no hair, and its snout isn't long enough.
ugly.
However... I leaned closer and took a careful sniff, firmly remembering that milky, goaty smell.
Even though she's ugly, I'll still protect her, since she was born with so much effort from my husband.
At first, all this little one did was cry. She would cry, then nurse, then sleep, then cry again, exhausting me to the point of having dark circles under my eyes. Luckily, her husband would get up at the slightest sound. Later, as soon as the little thing made a whimper, he would immediately get up, gently carry her out to comfort her, and then take her to the kitchen to boil milk. He would then feed her with a gourd that had been boiled in hot water, just like he used to feed the family's lame donkey.
This way, my people won't have to get up in the middle of the night to feed the baby, and they can get a good night's sleep.
The servant was also exhausted, his eyes dark and swollen. He held the little bundle of joy, feeding him with a small gourd in his hand, and his head slumped down little by little. I was really afraid he would die from exhaustion, so one time I secretly followed him out, lay down at his feet, turned my back on my belly, and barked at him.
He was taken aback at first, then couldn't help but laugh, bending down to rub my fur: "Big Yellow, thanks for thinking of me. But our Zhiheng is a person, you can't drink dog milk. Besides..." He glanced at my belly, "...you don't have that kind of milk either."
Humans can drink cow's milk, but not dog's milk?
That person is quite picky about food.
Well, what a pity. I sat up again with regret; I really wanted to feed the babies for someone else.
Time passed by in a blur. Over the wall, the persimmon tree, which had been fertilized with well-rotted donkey dung by that person who was so afraid of me, had spread out a whole patch of dense shade this year and was growing extremely lushly.
When the cicadas started chirping, the little one was finally weaned from human milk and started eating rice cereal, cow's milk, mashed vegetable puree, and fruit jam.
I smelled it, then gagged in disgust; it didn't taste very good.
Strangely enough, after eating this mushy stuff for a while, the little guy grew bigger and even learned to crawl. My people set up a large square bamboo bed in the yard, surrounded by a fine fence, with a soft mattress inside, and a cool bamboo mat on top of the mattress, just for the little thing to crawl around in using his hands and feet.
She was very busy; she and her husband often went hunting, while the others looked after the house across the street, which was always bustling with people. Often, only the cats, dogs, and a grumpy old man were left at home.
I would often jump in to keep her company.
The little brat has no beard and knows no bounds, often bumping her round head against the bamboo fence. Although I carefully tied a cotton apron to the bamboo fence, she not only bumps and climbs around randomly, but also doesn't know what she can and can't eat. I am often shocked to find that she will open her mouth with four tiny teeth and gnaw on whatever she can get her hands on: gnawing on the fence bars, gnawing on the cotton apron straps, gnawing on her own fists, gnawing on her own toes, and even trying to shove her head between two bamboo stalks.
I could only keep nudging her back with my head, and she would drool, turn around and crawl to the other side, ready to gnaw on something else.
I looked at her chubby bottom and limbs moving around so fast and I felt a little worried.
My man, did he give birth to an idiot?
How come they're even harder to teach than puppies?
Looking at the few sparse, soft tufts of down on her head, I was still very concerned: after raising her for so long, why is her hair still so sparse and not growing?
Sigh, I'm really worried about dogs.
Later, she learned to stand while holding onto the railing, and began to clumsily climb onto me with her short arms and legs until she was lying on my back, her two chubby little arms tightly wrapped around my neck, and her warm drool dripping onto the tip of my nose.
It was at that moment that I realized that hairless puppies are quite nice too, soft and plump.
I nuzzled her, and she burst into exaggerated giggles.
It may be a little ugly, but it's very soft and warm.
I carried her steadily on my back, strolling slowly around the yard. I walked very slowly, and she was very happy because she couldn't walk or talk yet, only babbling. I could be her legs, and I could understand what she was babbling about.
Sometimes she would suddenly burst into tears without warning, and no one could soothe her, leaving everyone frantic. I would then run over with her little floral blanket in my hand, gently nuzzle her with my nose, and she would lie down. After covering her with the blanket, I would lie down beside her, and she would immediately turn and snuggle close to me, sobbing softly, before falling into a deep sleep in no time.
I glanced up at the dumbfounded people around me and scoffed.
Those who have never raised a child are all this clumsy.
How can you always cuddle, hold, and carry a baby in your mouth? You have to let her lie down and sleep on her own.
My husband was both amused and exasperated. He patted my head and then turned to her servant, saying, "Oh no, Zhiheng has mistaken Dahuang for her real mother!"
Zhiheng, I've heard this tone countless times. I don't know what it means, but I know it's the name of this kid, just like the sound of my name "Dahuang." I've remembered it.
Later, the kitten became even more attached to following me around. Every now and then, I'd be taken to a place full of cats and dogs to eat some bitter pills; my people said it was to treat worms. I sniffed myself and barked unhappily. I'm so clean; I lick my paws and fur every day, where would I get worms?
However, ever since she became pregnant, the family has been bathing us even more frequently. I used to love water and wanted to bathe every day.
The only animal in the house is the cat, who is afraid of water. As soon as it sees someone carrying out a bucket of water, it runs away and disappears.
As the days went by, the few tufts of downy hair on the baby's head gradually became thicker and darker. My people used their paws (fingers) to gather the few remaining tufts of downy hair on her head into a bunch, tied it tightly with a red ribbon, and it looked like a little garlic sprout standing up.
When she was learning to walk, her little braids swayed along with her, which was incredibly cute.
I don't know when it started, but I stopped thinking she was ugly.
She's started talking too. I taught her to speak dog language, and she barks seriously.
My people are also teaching her to speak, often holding her and pointing to things in the yard, saying things like: "This is the persimmon tree Pingping," "This is the listening wood," "That's Little White and Little Yellow," "Woof woof," "Yao Deshui," "This is Big Yellow..."
She looked down following the finger, and as soon as she saw it was me, her little mouth immediately widened into a grin. She kicked her legs and stretched out her little arms, ready to pounce on the ground. Someone would then put her down from their arms, and she would stagger towards me. Just as she was about to fall, I quickly stepped forward to meet her. She then pounced on me, hugged my neck, and excitedly babbled incessantly.
I wagged my tail contentedly.
She stood a few steps away, gazing tenderly at me and her baby.
One day, she suddenly said, "Da Huang!"
The people around me and I were stunned. Then she called out again, clearly and distinctly: "Da! Huang!"
The first human word she learned was "Big Yellow"!
My jealous man squatted down in front of her, squeezing her chubby little hand and complaining, "Mommy taught you to say 'Mommy,' but why can't you learn it? Big Yellow learns so quickly! Be good, say 'Mommy,' say 'Mommy—'"
The boy frowned, a thoughtful expression on his round face. After a long while, he suddenly blurted out a single word seriously: "Wolf?"
Everyone, including the dog, burst into laughter.
It's not just about learning to speak; the little one has a lot more to learn. She can't urinate on her own yet, so she has to wear a cloth over her bottom every day. She has to be changed and washed every time she urinates, and sometimes she even urinates on the bedding.
For a while, the three or four clotheslines strung across the yard were laden with her little diapers. You couldn't smell it in the air, but my nose was filled with the stench of her urine.
It smells bad.
I then thought of teaching her how to pee, and then burying it with sand.
Young cubs need to learn to hide their tracks in order to avoid predators.
When my people discovered that I always squatted down to demonstrate how to pee to my daughter, and then taught her to bury her pee with her hands, she laughed so hard she fell off the recliner and lay on the ground laughing uncontrollably, looking like she was about to have trouble breathing.
I turned to look at her in confusion. Had she fallen ill with some kind of sudden illness? I was even thinking of going out to get her some herbs to chew.
After she finally finished laughing, I wiped away the tears from her laughter and told me, "Big Yellow, babies naturally learn to pee when they grow up. Don't worry."
I tilted my head, half-understanding, and said, "Okay."
Another year has passed, and the salvia in the corner of the yard has bloomed and faded again. The little one can now walk steadily, speak in long sentences, and has gradually stopped wetting the bed, and can use her little wooden potty by herself.
She is no longer the silly little girl I remember. People and her husband all say she is extremely clever. She can memorize poems after being taught them only once or twice. Even the stern old man always hugs her and says affectionately, "We know that Heng is as precocious as Wen An, but her personality is as likable as Ruyi. She only picks the good things. She is smart from the womb."
The old man in the family, whose face was as square as a table and who looked fierce, was incredibly kind to his son. When the son plucked his beard, he said, "Good job plucking it! Our Zhiheng hands are really strong!"
When the child peed on him, he said, "Zhiheng can pee such a big puddle, that's really something!"
The little boy smiled at him, drooling all over his face, and hugged his neck, calling out in a sweet, clear voice, "Great-Grandpa."
He could burst into tears on the spot, completely pathetic.
He always liked to carry his son on his back or around his neck, and once he even twisted his neck.
Even though he had a stiff neck, he was happy and looked radiant. He seemed younger than he had been in the previous years. He ate more, got up early every day to swing his arms, twist his waist and hips, and his legs were stronger. He kept saying, "I want to live a few more years and watch our Zhiheng grow up."
I lay under the eaves, my tail gently brushing against the rattan mat, grinning and sticking out my tongue, squinting at the sun. The morning light was faint in the courtyard, and the cotton clothes drying in the sun were smooth and warm.
The courtyard wall is covered with newly planted morning glory vines, just beginning to climb.
Sunrise and sunset, seasons come and go, and I have stayed in this little courtyard year after year.
My husband and her lover still like to cuddle together. Sometimes they just sit side by side on bamboo chairs, holding hands, watching the clouds drift by, saying nothing, and seem quite comfortable.
The little one is growing taller every year. His sparse hair has turned black and shiny, and he can now tie up two little buns. The soft, chubby little dumpling who used to drool on my back has grown up.
I can no longer carry her.
The fierce old man became even fiercer. I often heard his angry cursing voice coming from the big house across the street. I twitched my ears, yawned, and changed to a more comfortable position to sunbathe.
My man smiled and leaned close to her servant, whispering in his ear, "These days, people outside say that students come and go, but Dr. Yao is a constant. If a student at the Imperial Academy hasn't been beaten with a ruler by Dr. Yao, then he hasn't truly studied at the Imperial Academy."
Time is fair to both people and dogs. Even the other old man in the family, who loves to cook, has started using a cane, but he still stubbornly gets up early every day to cook for the whole family.
The sounds of starting a fire, rinsing rice, and chopping vegetables echoed.
Sizzle, it's in the pot.
The sound of those iron pots hitting the stove was like the morning bell in the courtyard. Every day when I heard these sounds, I would stretch my front legs and get up to go and see what was going on. He was also a very kind old man. He would always save a few plates of fragrant meat for the cats and dogs before adding salt and oil to the meat in the pot.
He always feeds me egg yolks. I'm an old dog now, but my fur isn't as bald as that big black dog at the alley entrance; it's still shiny and healthy, all thanks to him.
He's not only good at cooking for people, but also for dogs.
People felt sorry for him and often went to the kitchen door to persuade him, "Uncle Cong, please take a break and let me do it."
He never looked up, but instead stirred the pot with even more force, replying in a muffled voice, "What's there to rest? I can still work. Don't worry about me, I just want to make you guys something hot."
Neither people nor dogs can do anything about him.
The boy wasn't even tall enough to reach the table when he started attending a private girls' school. I heard it was run by a woman named Feng Qiniang, and it wasn't near the Imperial Academy. You had to cross several busy streets with bustling traffic and crowds of people.
Although someone drove a carriage to see me off, I was still worried. I would always take advantage of the moment when no one was looking, grab her book bag, jump into the carriage, and follow her.
She looked down at me, her big eyes curving into crescents, and she secretly scratched the tip of my ear with her little hand.
There were only a few students in the girls' private school, just three or five little girls dressed in plain clothes, like a few timid little seedlings. My people said it was because in the past only men could study, and women could not, so people thought that girls should not be sent to school, hence the quiet atmosphere.
Humans are strange. I don't understand why people need to read books, nor do I understand why this matter has to be divided into who can read and who can't. Male dogs and female dogs are both dogs, so aren't male and female humans both human beings?
Anyway, the kid really enjoys reading.
She sat upright, her small chest puffed out, and her bright, dark eyes always followed Mr. Feng as she listened to the lecture. She had a good memory; she could memorize the words and phrases the teacher taught after repeating them a few times. Mr. Feng was a woman with gentle eyes, and she looked quite old, but my people said she was a woman who had left her family and had already taken up her own hair, determined to teach women about principles for the rest of her life and never marry.
Her voice was soft, yet clear as the stream outside the bamboo hut. She held up a book and read a sentence aloud, and the little human children sitting below followed suit.
I lay down at the doorway of the bamboo hut where they studied. Sunlight filtered through the bamboo leaves, casting dappled, dancing golden dapples that warmly enveloped my back.
Inside the bamboo house, I listened to their tender voices, reading aloud:
"To know is to know..."
I yawned, rested my head on my crossed front paws, and dozed off comfortably amidst the rustling of the wind through the bamboo tips and the cheerful voices of children.
That's enough for now. I need to go pick up my little one from school when the bell rings.
This is my ordinary dog life, and I like it very much.
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Big Yellow: Stare.
Lin Wen'an: ?
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