YHTD 21

Chapter 21

Dear Family, Friends, and Dog

5

Speaking of our dog, Fúlái (Lucky), I honestly think it’s on the verge of achieving spiritual enlightenment. When eating fish, it picks out bones and spines more meticulously than a cat, and after finishing, it’ll pull out a tissue from the box under the coffee table to wipe its mouth—then shred that tissue into long strips for good measure.

The most astonishing thing is that it steals my dad’s medicine for lowering blood pressure and cholesterol. It drags the whole blister pack out, cracks open one capsule to eat it, then neatly puts the rest back. After that, it’ll go to the fruit bowl, find two Korean pears, peel them, eat them, and finally lie on the carpet with all four paws in the air as if nothing happened.

It even has a best friend in our neighborhood—a stray toy poodle. I once personally witnessed that poodle “violating” a black plastic bag near the apartment gate… Truly living up to its species’ infamous reputation.

But Lucky never judges that poodle for its scandalous private life. The two of them—well, the two dogs—are inseparable. They meet two or three times a week. When they meet, Lucky will look around to make sure no one’s watching, then dig up the bone it had buried in the little garden to offer as a gift. Then the two dogs will carry their bones together and gnaw away in some quiet corner.

Maybe because that poodle is Lucky’s only friend, it’s picked up some weird habits from it. Once, when I was walking Lucky, I was stunned to see her lifting a leg and peeing against a telephone pole. Sometimes she even stands on three legs and lifts one up to pee on the grass.

But… she’s a female dog! Why on earth is she lifting her leg?!

6

When Lucky stays at my sister’s house, she absolutely adores me. But once she’s at our house, she becomes inexplicably hostile toward me.

Once, during dinner, I noticed her glaring at me—fiercely, but with a bit of sadness too—so I asked my dad what was wrong.

He said, “None of us really like eating meat. Before you came home, we used to pick out all the meat and give it to Lucky. We’d only eat the vegetables.”

And that’s when I realized—she must hate me because I’m stealing her food.

So… as a member of this family, I can’t even have a bite of meat now?

One day, she started acting strangely. For example, while I was in my room playing on the computer, she’d walk up to me, stare, squat down, sigh, and walk away.

I asked my friend Shiyue what that meant. She laughed and said, “She’s saying you’re not tasty.”

Later, my sister ordered a whole box of dog treats online—chicken jerky, beef jerky, fish slices, and so on. I was the one in charge of distributing them. Suddenly, Lucky started to adore me.

Maybe my dad got jealous of that. Wanting to win her affection back, he began slandering me.

One day, Lucky rolled around at my dad’s feet, begging for snacks. My dad said to the pleading dog, “Good girl, go to bed. You’ve had enough snacks. Eat too much and you’ll get fat—then you won’t be pretty anymore.”

Then he lowered his voice and whispered to her, “See XX (my name)? She eats a lot. Do you want to end up as fat as she is?”

I was sitting on the couch and heard everything clearly. That day, I began to doubt my entire existence.

7

There was a time I wanted to open a Taobao shop. I just wanted to open one, without knowing what to sell. A friend suggested, “Why don’t you sell stupidity?”

I thought it sounded funny, so I actually opened the shop and listed my “product” for ten cents.

Even though it was only ten cents, when people actually started buying it, I hesitated. I couldn’t just send them a message saying, “Hello, you are stupid.”

So I decided to use my talent and draw little doodles for each buyer instead.

After lunch, I ran into the study and began painting. My dad came in to take a look.

Dad: “What are you doing? Don’t waste my paint—it’s imported and expensive.”
Me: “I’m selling art! Ten cents per piece!”
Dad: “Can you not be so ridiculous? The amount of paint you squeezed out could make a hundred of those.”

Then he looked carefully at my drawing, sighed, and said,
“Forget it. I guess you’re compensating with the materials. Anyone who spends ten cents on something like this is already having a bad day…”

Dad, I know what this is—you’re afraid my artistic talent will surpass yours! I refuse to listen!

I am a cute, beautiful girl who can draw stick figures with a brush!

8

My dad is a master of sarcasm. But my boyfriend San Ye’s dad? He’s a professional when it comes to verbally destroying him.

Maybe because San Ye’s mom refuses to join in mocking her son, his dad treats me like a long-lost ally. Every time he sees me, he finds company in me for his complaints.

Aside from repeatedly saying that San Ye is the laziest person he’s ever met, he also takes it upon himself to teach me the “Way of a Wife.”

He’s a man who’s obsessed with praising his wife, so his “lessons” mostly consist of telling me how amazing and wise my future mother-in-law is.

He once gave me this example:
“Your aunt insists that every time I come home, I have to change my shoes and wash my feet. One time I came home really tired and didn’t change shoes. She didn’t scold me—she just quietly brought me slippers, knelt down, helped me change them, and even brought water for me to wash my feet. From that day on, I never forgot to change shoes and wash up, no matter how tired I was.”

I listened earnestly and decided to put this lesson into practice. I took the two pairs of smelly socks that San Ye had left on the balcony, washed them in the sink, hung them up to dry, and sighed meaningfully in his direction—hoping he’d have a revelation like his father did.

At the time, we were renting an apartment, and his parents had come to visit. That night, San Ye and I slept on the sofa in the living room. He sat there, looking wronged, and said to me:

“You woman… you’re too good at acting!”

Because, in truth, he was the one who always washed our dirty socks. (:зゝ∠)