"Xiao An" - My dog
Take my dog, Xiao An, and go in pursuit of the direction where the flowers bloom

Xiao An sleeps at the foot of my bed.
Back in Liangnong Town, her nest was a foam box padded with bamboo leaves beneath the concrete ledge outside my door. Now at the apiary, I’ve moved her into my tent. The nights are too bitter for a puppy still weaning off milk. By day, bees besieged her, leaving her face swollen like a dumpling, listless and defeated. I brought her along for courage—they say dogs take strength from humans, but here, I draw mine from her. Her gentle presence holds at bay the weariness of survival.
Wilderness stretches beyond the tent, darkness swallowing the horizon. I coax Xiao An inside, kneel to stroke her forehead, and tuck her into the foam box lined with cotton. She writhes free, limping stubbornly to a corner, collapsing onto bare cement. I understand—the cold floor soothes her burning stings better than any cushion.
Lights off. Her labored breaths punctuate the night. I whisper her name between shallow sleeps: “Xiao An, be brave… You’ll heal…” Bee venom has stolen her voice; she answers in whimpers.
Half-dreaming, I fumble for the flashlight. The beam finds emptiness where she lay. I bolt upright, sweeping light wildly—there she is, coiled against my slippers. My sudden movement startles her. She lifts her muzzle, eyes liquid with unspoken hurt, like a child swallowing tears.
When did she crawl here? Did the same primal fear that grips me—vast, formless—also drive her, scorched by pain, to seek my scent through the void? In her puppy heart, I’m her anchor in alien darkness, though she cannot know how breakable I am, a woman as fragile as dust in life’s storm.
A rooster’s cry pierces the northern village. Pre-dawn blackness holds firm until ancient crows chisel it away. Xiao An sleeps deeply now, her breaths human-steady, snores human-loud. Perhaps she too, like us, buries her deepest yearnings.
Night’s shadows cling to my thoughts as daylight claims my body. I step into morning’s glow, pretending composure, pretending tears, pretending fervent love for this jagged world.
About the Creator
Luna
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Comments (2)
Awesome!!! Well written, good luck.
Freedom is the inherent aspiration of all things in the world. So it is with human beings, and so it is with small animals. If a dog cannot be allowed to jump freely in the sunlight and enjoy the comfort of the wind blowing on its face, what pleasure is there in its short dog life?