By Xu Xiaobin
Translated by Nicky Harman
On a few windless days in the fifth month of the lunar calendar, Beijing is fleetingly beautiful. The sun dazzles right overhead and emerald green foliage burgeons luxuriantly on the trees. But in this city, trees are only clothed in their natural color for a short time, after which every type of particulate matter and dust paints them a uniform grey.
It is on just such a day that Pompom walks through Hezi’s door. She is still a tiny puppy, barely weaned, pure white in colour, with eyes that alternate between emerald and aquamarine. She lurches round Hezi and her son, Huanhuan, on ungainly puppyish legs until Hezi, who has no idea what to feed her, cuts up a tiny bit of prawn. Pompom’s translucent pink tongue licks the pink meat, then gobbles it up. Huanhuan offers watermelon, and Pompom eats that too, then boldly gets on her hind legs, puts her front paws on Huanhuan’s knee and begs for more.
Hezi has always been afraid of dogs. And not just dogs, but all small creatures. She finds their unsmiling stares rather sinister. It is the opposite with Huanhuan. An only child with few friends, he adores dogs and cats. One day on the way to the supermarket, he becomes instantly smitten with a street merchant’s dog and stops, refusing to budge. When his mother drags him away, he keeps looking back. Finally, he sets up a despairing wail and scalding hot tears drip down his face, wetting his mother’s hand. Hezi has been divorced for some time; mother and son only have each other. Faced with Huanhuan’s distress, Hezi eventually gives in. From a starting price of 600 yuan, she beats the stallholder down and the puppy is theirs for 220 yuan.
The puppy needs a name. Huanhuan wants something grandiose, like Napoleon or Caesar, while his mother prefers something more ordinary. They argue back and forth without agreement until one or other of them, or perhaps both simultaneously, catch sight of the little dog’s tail, like a pompom chrysanthemum in bloom, and in the same breath, they shout “Pompom!” It is an unusual and a pretty name, which Pompom learns in no time at all. When Huanhuan calls her, she gets up, and the boy sweeps her up into his arms and onto the bed. Then Pompom rolls round and round like a little bundle of fluff. She has another trick too: she sneaks up on tiptoes, stops when she is near enough, then launches herself at him, pressing her head against his face and licking him from his forehead right down to his chin. The scene plays itself out again and again, with Huanhuan lavishing all sorts of nicknames on the dog: “Good Girl, Chubby Baby, Cutie-Pie, my little Michael Jackson.” Hezi has never known her son so smitten and, as she does the washing-up and listens to their play, it seems to her that the house feels livelier than it ever has, and the habitual melancholy of her expression softens into a smile.
Hezi has a long face, rather like a Manchu. She was very pretty in her youth, but with age her expression has become somber. Still, every now and then, if a smile should happen to cross her features, her face lights up and she looks like a different person. A middle school teacher, Hezi is in her early thirties and, since her divorce, has made sure to live a decent life and repress her emotions. Her son is her whole world, and when he is happy, it brightens her day. She may not like dogs, but for his sake she puts up with Pompom.
It is getting late and time to find somewhere for Pompom to sleep. Hezi gets out an old cardboard box, lines it with some cotton wadding and puts it out on the balcony. She is fussy about cleanliness. Soon after Pompom arrives, she sees that the dog has some crud in its eyes and suggests to Huanhuan that it needs a bath. Pompom is very docile and doesn’t struggle at all. When it is washed, they wrap it in a towel and dry it with the blow dryer till its coat is all fluffy again. Then Pompom suddenly starts shivering uncontrollably, froths at the mouth, and has an attack of diarrhea. Huanhuan bursts into torrents of tears and points an accusing finger at his mother. “It’s all your fault!” he yells. “You hurt her!” Finally, he shuts himself in the bathroom and carries on choking with sobs. “Pompom is going to die! My Pompom is going to die!”
Hezi forces herself to be calm but inwardly she is terrified. Then she looks at this bundle of fluff that is shrinking away by the minute and pulls herself together. It is time for desperate measures. She’ll try what worked when Huanhuan was ill as a baby. She gets some antibiotics and cold remedy pills, grinds up two of each, and mixes them up together. Gripping the puppy firmly, she spoons the mixture into its mouth. Pompom gives a squeal like a child and struggles so hard that only half goes in. By this time, Hezi is sweating profusely. She wraps the puppy in an old quilt of Huanhuan’s and tucks her into the cardbox box on the balcony. When she goes in to see her son, he has gone to sleep.
Hezi, however, lies wide awake. Damn it! she thinks. Whoever would imagine that such a tiny thing could be such a worry. As the night wears on, the wind gets up and the curtains flap and cast fretwork shadows on the wall opposite the bed. Hezi stares, watching the shadows change shape, and she quails inwardly as if she has committed some terrible misdeed. Finally, out of the darkness, she hears a shrill cry. Could it really be the dog? She goes outside and in the darkness makes out a bundle of white fur and a pair of bright eyes looking quietly at her. “Pompom?” she says. The little bundle gets to its feet, and clutches her leg with its paws. She is suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. Such a tiny, vulnerable creature, with no one in this world except herself and her son to look after it. She picks it up in her arms, feeling its warm soft fur, and it presses its face hard to hers. Mum! I’m better! Pompom seems to be saying. And she’d thought that dogs could only bark.
Quietly, she puts it down and creeps away.
From then on, it is as if she has a daughter. First thing in the morning, Pompom sneaks into her room, jumps on her bed and licks her awake. This is the signal that it is time for their morning walk. Hezi: “Out?” The dog cocks her head. Hezi, teasingly: “Where’s your leash?” The dog gives a little jump, and cocks her head the other way. Hezi can’t repress a chuckle. Pompom knows that the leash means a walk. Hezi has spent seventy yuan at the pet shop on a dog leash; all their stuff is very expensive. They clearly have a wealthy clientele and everything is priced accordingly. Hezi’s salary is enough for her and her son to get by well enough, but a dog on top of that? Every city dog needs a permit, which costs five thousand yuan. And then there are the rules and regulations. Dog-walking is permitted only before 7 am and after 8 pm, which means walking in the pitch darkness in winter. Hezi can’t afford the permit yet. But on their walks, she discovers that almost none of the owners have bought their dogs permits and gradually her fears quieten.
The pollution in Beijing gets steadily worse. The city is one big building site with all the attendant noise and traffic jams and less and less residential space. Every corner now sprouts traffic lights, but they do nothing to control the streams of cars and pedestrians. Hezi’s complex used to have a patch of grass in front of it. Half of this is now occupied by a construction site, and soon they’ll be chopping down the canopy of trees to erect workmen’s huts. Dust from the reinforced concrete fills the air and mixes with exhaust fumes. Even the grass turns grey. Hezi is hard pressed to find somewhere to take Pompom for her walk. Her pretty white fur turns grey, with streaks of black showing through. Only her tongue remains the same vivid pink as before.
It is hard to avoid making comparisons between the local dogs. There is Lili, a bitch belonging to a family whose house has been demolished, not nearly as attractive as Pompom. Then there is Qiuqiu, Maomao and Tiaotiao in the building behind them, all of them mongrel Pekingese-type mutts, nothing out of the ordinary. Carl, on the twelfth floor, is an attractive dog, with the same pure white fur as Pompom. He’s a pedigree shih tzu, an aristocrat among small dogs, but is getting on in years. Otherwise he would make a good mate for Pompom. Hezi has been looking for a suitable match for some time and isn’t quite sure what she feels about her lack of success: perhaps disappointment mixed with pride, and a delicious feeling that it will just be the three of them. Huanhuan has no such worries; he buys popsicles when he takes Pompom out, attracting all the neighborhood dogs around them. They soon get to know the dog owners too. The only one who annoys Hezi is Carl’s owner. He is a manager of a local restaurant, a man of means. His dog is a cut above the others, and he is inordinately proud of him. Every time the dog raises his head, the owner pours a little from the mineral water bottle he carries with him into his cupped palm and holds it out for Carl to drink. He even sprays Carl with it in hot weather to cool him down. He may think this is the way the upper class behave, but in Hezi’s view he is simply being pretentious.
One night in the middle of summer, Hezi, showers and puts on a flowery polyester sleeveless top and loose trousers to take Pompom for a walk. She has left it till late deliberately so as to avoid other people but as luck would have it she bumps right into Carl’s owner. Intent on giving them a wide berth, Hezi tugs on the leash, but Carl and Pompom have other ideas. They are instantly fascinated by each other and begin rubbing noses and nipping playfully. There is no pulling them away. Carl’s owner glances sidelong at Pompom. “Not bad, your dog,” he concedes. “What’s its name?” As though this is the first time he has seen her.
Hezi feels a flash of anger. “Well, of course, a great man like you would hardly remember the time when Carl begged a popsicle off our Huanhuan.”
“Oh, oh, yes of course,” says Carl’s owner. “It’s Pompom, isn’t it? And what breed is it? It doesn’t look Pekingese.”
“Of course she’s not Pekingese,” said Hezi, chin in air. “She’s a German Pomeranian, a rare breed.” In fact, Hezi has no idea whether Pompom is a Pomeranian, but she is quite sure she wants to bring Carl’s owner down a peg or two.
The man is astonished. “Really? A German Pomeranian?! Here, Pompom, do a little trot for me!” Pompom trots obligingly. She looks like a cloud come alive, seeming to fly. Carl can’t catch up with her no matter how hard he tries. His owner’s eyes sparkle. “She really is a Pomeranian. Good heavens, Pomeranians make wonderful pets. When she’s grown, she’ll be able to do all sorts of stuff around the house for you!”
“Really!” responds Hezi with a show of indifference.
The man talks on and on, showing off his knowledge of dogs. “German Pomeranians are lively, cute, loyal and brave, big-hearted, take up hardly any space, and have no shortcomings at all… Besides, we are the only two with pedigree dogs around here… May I ask, how old is Pompom?”
Hezi tugs at Pompom’s leash. “She’s just a puppy,” she says and stalks away.
“Well, don’t let her turn into an old maid like that Lili!” Carl’s owner shouts after her.
Hezi doesn’t turn around, but she says to herself, And so what if she does? We’ll never let her mate with an old mutt like Carl! A moment later, she can’t help laughing out loud. It has suddenly occurred to her how much younger she feels, and how much happier, since they got Pompom.
When they get home, Huanhuan is washing his feet. He looks at her and pouts. “I think you love Pompom more than me, Mum!” Hezi takes off the dog’s leash and refills her bowl with fresh water. Pompom pounces on it and glugs it down.
Hezi is all smiles as she watches her. “Don’t be silly. You’re my son, she’s just a dog. There’s no comparison. What a terrible thing to say!”
“Still, since she came, you haven’t paid nearly as much attention to me,” Huanhuan mutters.
“Then let’s get rid of her! Or turn her into a stew! Red-cooked with soy sauce!” Laughing, she goes to the kitchen to prepare some pork spareribs.
Huanhuan’s mouth turns down even harder. “You won’t treat yourself to ribs, but you give them to the dog to eat. How’s that not favoritism?”
“You two eat the ribs,” says Hezi. “Puppies and boys need extra calcium. It’d be a lot of trouble if you got soft bones.” They chat away until the ribs are ready. By the time Hezi has tidied away Huanhuan’s schoolbag and given Pompom a late night snack, it is midnight. Finally getting into bed, Hezi grabs the Encyclopedia of Dogs and begins to read. She is determined to become an expert in pet care.
From then on, Hezi and Carl’s owner meet up from time to time. Outwardly aloof, they are secretly competitive when it comes to the dogs. For instance, Carl’s owner will sit on a stone pillar and take his shoe off and throw it. “Carl, fetch!” he commands. And the dog, with his ungainly run, fetches the shoe back.
Hezi’s lips turn into a pout. “That’s nothing special. And besides, it’s rude to throw shoes in public. The sort of thing a country hick does.” She commands Pompom to fetch her leash and Pompom duly obeys. She is nimbler and prettier than Carl.
Annoyed, Carl’s owner turns to go, but before he does so he gives Carl another command. “Say goodbye to Pompom!” And Carl stands on his hind legs and raises his forepaws in the air as if waving goodbye.
Hezi is not going down without a fight. “Say bye-bye to Carl!” she commands Pompom, and Pompom stands on her hind legs, paws clasped to her chest in the traditional Chinese salutation.
Carl’s owner cannot repress a smile. “Good girl,” he mutters before walking off.
In no time at all, it is autumn. National Day, October 1st, this year will mark the fifty-fifth anniversary of the founding of New China. Beijing empties as everyone goes back to their homes for the holidays. The city seems suddenly bigger and more spacious, quieter and brighter. A rainstorm scours the leaves and grass clean and restores them to their former green. Not far into the new term at Huanhuan and Hezi’s school, Hezi receives a prize for being a model teacher in their community. With her bonus, she plans to buy the dog license for Pompom. But when she eventually finds a spare moment and goes to the office, she is told they are shut until next May or June, and she should come back then.
Pompom is no longer a puppy. She weighs ten pounds now and has a long white coat and black lustrous eyes. She is a very cute dog. She no longer sleeps on the balcony or even on the sofa. Only a bed is good enough for her, either Hezi’s or Huanhuan’s, and she makes sure to distribute her favors equally. If mother and son are sitting together, she squeezes in between them. She is a good guard dog, barking as soon as a stranger approaches along the walkway. But she never barks at Hezi or Huanhuan. Instead, if she wants to communicate something to them, she emits delicate little chattering noises. It is the kind of sound a dumb person who has had some success with acupuncture treatment might make, Hezi thinks. Slightly squeaky, a sort of Chinese coloratura soprano.
“She can almost talk,” says Huanhuan. “Wouldn’t it be great if she spoke like a human one day? She’d get into the Guinness Book of Records!”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she spoke,” says Hezi. “She’s more human than dog.” They laugh. Pompom has come into season once — as Hezi finds out from the encyclopedia, bitches come into season twice a year and should only become pregnant after the third time, so Hezi makes sure to keep a close eye on her “daughter” for the time being.
One evening, Pompom makes it clear she wants to go out. No sooner have they stepped out of the building and got to the corner than Hezi hears someone say in a low voice, “Take Pompom back inside, quick!” In astonishment, she turns and see Carl’s owner, staring at her with a blank expression on his face. “Something terrible’s happened. Carl’s been taken. Go back in!”
Hezi scurries back home with Pompom in her arms. When Huanhuan learns what happened to Carl, he goes downstairs. He comes back shortly, puffing and panting. “They’re doing an inspection before National Day. Carl went out half an hour too early and the dog patrol snatched him!” Hezi clutches Pompom in fright. She feels desperately sorry for Carl’s owner. To think that Carl was snatched because he went out half an hour too early, even though he had a dog license! It would be disastrous if Pompom were taken. She discusses it with Huanhuan and they decide the best thing is to take Pompom to an aunt who lives in the countryside, just until National Day is over.
That night, Hezi looks at her son, tucked snugly in bed with Pompom. She cannot sleep. She creeps downstairs. Outside, on the patch of grass she goes to so often, she sees the glimmer of a lit cigarette in the darkness. Karl’s owner is there smoking. This normally vigorous restaurateur does his best to give an impression of calmness but seems suddenly to have shrunk in stature, and Hezi feels a flicker of pity. She crosses to where he stands and asks if there is any news about Carl. “I’ve just come from the dog patrol office,” he says, dragging deeply on his cigarette. “It’s okay, I’ll get him back tomorrow morning. I just have to pay a fine. But I’d advise you to get Pompom out of the city for a while, keep her out of the way. Apparently, they’re checking dogs daily until National Day, going house to house, checking up on licenses. Any dogs without a license will be taken and sold to a vivisection laboratory … and even the dogs that don’t end up there are going to have a hard time.”
“Is Carl having a hard time?”
He sighs. “I just went to take a look. All the dogs the patrol has seized have been taken to a warehouse. There were a thousand or more in there, all barking away. The lad in charge got so frantic, he turned the pressure hose on the whole lot of them. By the time I got there, there wasn’t a bark to be heard. It was pitch-dark and they were all huddled around a bowl of filthy water… How terrible for little Carl!” In spite of his best efforts, the man’s voice cracks and his eyes swim with tears.
Hezi feels tears come to her eyes too. “Really! What harm has a little dog like him done to anyone?! But don’t torture yourself thinking about it. You go home and get a good rest. I’m so grateful for what you did today…”
Carl’s owner waves her thanks away: “It’s just what neighbors do. You go back in, I’ll stay here for a bit. I won’t sleep even if I do go home. Besides, my wife and daughter are both crying their eyes out and I can’t bear it!”
That weekend, Hezi gets a friend to take her and Pompom to Changping, on the outskirts of Beijing, where an aunt of hers lives. It is like sending a daughter off with a trousseau: Pompom goes with her favorite fried fish, doggie chocolate, beef jerky and frankfurters, and when they arrive, Hezi makes a point of offering her aunt’s dogs some of the chocolate, so that Pompom can start off on the right foot with them. To her surprise, the dogs won’t go near the chocolate. The bitch is in pup, but it only has some leftover noodles in its bowl and a bit more tomato than the other dogs. Her aunt smiles. “They’ve never had chocolate before, it’s wasted on them!” There are four dogs, a German shepherd, a Beauceron, and two shih tzus, Dumbdumb and Jewel, who is the one in pup. Hezi is relieved to note that they are not actively hostile to Pompom, though they are not overly friendly either. They just sniff, wag their tails and leave her alone — except for Dumbdumb, who chases around after Pompom with great enthusiasm, until the aunt shouts angrily at him, “Heartless wretch, your mate is carrying your pups and you’re already infatuated with another female!”
There is general laughter at her jibe, and Hezi laughs along. “Dumbdumb’s not dumb at all!” She leaves the homestead in a cheerful mood, but things change on the way home. Huanhuan is sitting beside her friend in the passenger seat, his head bent. From the back seat, Hezi can see only his trouser leg, on which there seems to be a patch of dampness, a patch that gets bigger and bigger, until he cannot hold back the sobs any longer. Hezi feels her own eyes well with tears. She is quite desolate at the thought of that shaggy, warm little body with her soft-as-velvet coat. She would feel so much better if she could cuddle Pompom right now.
It is with some trepidation that she calls them that evening, but her aunt’s loud tones reassure Hezi and Huanhuan. “She’s doing fine. She hasn’t eaten much, but lots of dogs are like that when they go to a strange place. Give it a bit of time. She won’t hold out more than four or five days, you’ll see!”
The next day Hezi calls again. Her aunt is quieter this time. “She’s still not eating, but don’t you worry. Dumbdumb and Jewel were like this when they first came here! I know all about dogs.”
“Please, Aunt,” Hezi says meekly. “Do what you can to tempt her to eat, try anything!” Her aunt tells her not to worry, but Hezi does not feel confident.
On the third day, Hezi has to make a work trip to Xi’an. She tries repeatedly to call her aunt before she leaves but cannot get through. On tenterhooks, she leaves for Xi’an. Early the next morning she has a dream. Pompom, her long silvery coat blown by the wind, is tearing along like a tornado, running through clouds until she gets to Hezi’s feet and suddenly stops. She put her claws on Hezi’s leg and bursts out in human language: “Mum! I miss you!” Hezi starts awake in terror, and stares blankly out of the window at the dawn sky.
Hezi is home after a week. It is Sunday, Huanhuan is not there, and the house is in a terrible mess. Mechanically, Hezi begins to tidy up, feeling increasingly flustered. At noon, the shrill sound of the telephone startles her so much that she trembles. It takes her a minute to pick up. It is her aunt, but Hezi can hear nothing except a droning noise, like a bellows. She remembers nothing after that, not even how she manages to get to her aunt’s house, though it seems to take an awfully long time, changing from one bus to another to another, and costs her a lot of money. The night is drawing in by the time she arrives. The whole family is there, and so is Huanhuan, his eyes frightfully swollen. Her aunt is in tears. “I’ve had dogs, so many dogs, but I’ve never know one so stubborn. Pompom just refused to eat, and if you forced it down her, she spat it out, and every night she barked and barked in the direction of your house. The first couple of days I thought she’d be okay, but the third day I got scared and tried calling you but no one picked up. I called your school and they said you’d gone on a trip and would be back in a few days. I honestly had no idea… But what a faithful dog she was! She wasn’t just an ordinary pet, she was really special… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! … But how about this? Jewel’s due to have her puppies in a couple of days, why don’t you pick one of them? I know it won’t be as good as Pompom, but it’ll be a pedigree shih tzu. It would be something, wouldn’t it?”
Hezi has no idea whether she nodded or not. She holds Huanhuan’s hand and her aunt and her family take them to see Pompom’s grave. Her aunt tells them the site has very good fengshui, with mountains on one side and water on the other. Hezi and Huanhuan pick a bunch of wildflowers and place them on the tiny grave. Huanhuan keeps on crying until he has cried himself hoarse. Hezi does not shed a single tear, just stares blankly, making no attempt to comfort her son or to speak at all.
After October 1st is over, the aunt really does bring them a puppy. It is very pretty, with a long silvery coat like Pompom. In fact it looks Pompom when she first arrived, with the same ungainly gait. They call it Baobao. That evening, Hezi takes the puppy downstairs for a breath of fresh air. All the dogs who were corralled are back with their owners now, but she cannot see Carl. Finally, when it is getting dark, Carl’s owner emerges, looking wretched.
“Where’s Carl?” asks Hezi.
There is a long silence. “When he was taken away, he lost the use of his legs…”
“Make them compensate you!”
“Never mind that, it wouldn’t be enough! They fined me three thousand, plus the license is five thousand, so that was eight thousand before they handed Carl over.”
“You mean Carl didn’t have a license?”
“Oh, he did, but it was from Tongxian so it didn’t count. You’d better take good care of that pretty little thing you’ve got! Is it Pompom’s puppy?”
Hezi forces herself to nod. “Yes, she is pretty, isn’t she?” she says.
Carl’s owner cannot take his eyes off Baobao and Hezi thinks she sees tears. “If only Karl hadn’t been injured so badly… Ai! Laugh if you want, but when I went to fetch him home, I was broken-hearted…” And suddenly he bursts into loud sobs. A grown man, bawling like a child.
Hezi cannot explain why she lied to Carl’s owner. The truth is that she hardly dares face the fact that Pompom has died. When the restaurateur wept, she could not cry, she did not want to blub along with him. But now, in the depths of the night, she cannot hold back the tears any longer. Pompom, that beautiful, lovable dog who did no harm to anyone, is dead because she was too faithful, too devoted to her owners. And it was a willed death; she was so steadfast, there was nothing casual about it. It was a pure life and a clean death, Hezi thinks. And Pompom was much stronger in her resolve than Hezi, who drifts through life, come what may. The flood gates open and a torrent of tears come.
After a little while, she feels a warm fluffy thing crawl onto her face and lick the tears with its delicate little tongue. She reaches out and takes this small living creature in her arms. Such a vulnerable creature. It will meet so many hazards in its life, but she determines to protect it with all her might. It is only a dog but it deserves to be treated well. She hopes Baobao will have better luck than Pompom. And with that thought, she falls into a deep sleep.
In her dream, she sees the red flare of twilight and a swath of white flowers, a small white dog leaping among them. At first glance it looks like Pompom. But no, she looks closer and it is Baobao. She flings herself towards it. Try as she might, though, it is always beyond her reach. Then the red flare and the white flowers turn into a screen in which Pompom, Baobao, Carl, Dumbdumb and Jewels, Lili and Qiuqiu all swirl in a dance, as if in a slow-motion film, and she smiles in her dream. At that instant, Baobao wakes up, opens his lustrous dark eyes and looks curiously at his mistress’s face. However does she manage to smile through her tears? That is something this little pup will never master, not in a lifetime of trying.
花瓣儿
徐小斌著
北京短暂的美丽是在农历五月，没有风的日子。太阳当头照着，亮晃晃的，林木呈出一派豪华的金绿色。在这座城市，树木只在很短的时间里呈现出最本质的颜色，之后，就会被各种各样的悬浮颗粒物和灰尘染成一片灰。
就在那个日子里花瓣儿走进了贺子家的大门。花瓣儿当时很小，刚刚分窝儿，全身雪白，一双眼睛忽蓝忽绿，很象那种金绿色的阿拉伯大宝石。花瓣儿还不大会走路，一拐一拐的围着贺子和儿子欢欢转，贺子不知该给它吃些什么，就剥一点点虾肉喂它，很少的一点。透明粉红的虾肉被同样质地的小舌头一卷，囫囵着吞下去，欢欢又在旁边喂西瓜，它也舔着吃了，很勇敢的，还立起小身子，把两个前爪搭在欢欢膝上，还想吃。
贺子本来一向怕狗。不但怕狗，所有的小动物都怕。因为它们不会笑，盯着人看的时候，就有一丝丝阴险。欢欢恰恰相反。独生子欢欢从小就不合群，没什么朋友，对于小狗小猫却是特别钟爱。在陪妈妈去超市的路上，欢欢对路边小贩的那只小狗一见钟情，看见就走不动道儿了。贺子就扯着他走，他一步一回头，最后如丧考妣般地哭将起来，眼泪一大滴一大滴地落下来，掉在贺子拉着他的手上，热乎乎地烫人。贺子早已离婚，母子俩多年相依为命，看到儿子这般痛心疾首，她只好缴械投降。从人民币六百元砍起，砍到二百二十元成交。
接下来是起名字。欢欢说叫拿破仑或者凯撒，贺子偏要起个平民化的名字，争来争去没有结果，后来忘了是谁，也可能是两个人同时发现小狗那条雪白蓬松菊花一样绽放的尾巴，他们几乎是同时喊出了花瓣儿这个又美丽又与众不同的名字。欢欢就赶着它叫花瓣儿，小狗就象听得懂似的，每叫一声就立起来一下，欢欢笑得抱起它在床上打滚儿，小花瓣儿就象团小绒球似的滚来滚去，还有一手绝活：迈着猫步蹑手蹑脚地走近，突然停住，猛地扑过来，很英勇的样子，大脑袋压住欢欢的脸，小粉舌头就伸出来，从欢欢的脑门儿舔起，一直舔到下巴颏儿。节目就这么一遍遍地演，欢欢就给花瓣儿起一串儿外号：“乖娃娃，宝贝儿小胖子，米高简迅，妹朵儿，小亲样子……”贺子还是头一回发现儿子这么酸，收拾着碗碟的时候，听着他们闹，冷清清的家有了活气，贺子一向忧郁的脸上也忍不住露出微笑。
贺子的脸有点长，象满人，年轻时满漂亮的，现在上了一点年纪，眼神里总有一点凄清。但是偶尔一笑的时候，就象是突然换了个人，脸上掠过一丝光辉，很是灿烂夺目。三十出头的年纪贺子就离了婚，又洁身自好，因此一直生活得很压抑。对于一直在中学做教师的贺子来说，儿子就是她的整个世界，看到儿子高兴，她整个身心都感到爽。爱屋及乌，也就容忍了小花瓣儿。
天色晚了，得为花瓣儿安排住处了。贺子找出个纸箱子，里面垫了些棉花，放在阳台上。贺子有洁癖，细看花瓣儿脸上好象沾了点眼屎，就和欢欢商量着给它洗澡。小花瓣儿洗澡的时候很乖，一动也不动，洗完了用毛巾被裹了，然后用卷发器吹热风，雪白的毛渐渐篷松起来，小身子却哆嗦得越来越厉害，突然，嘴角里涌出了白沫，白沫越涌越多，几张手纸都擦不净，下边也开始拉稀。欢欢哇地一声哭起来，指着贺子大叫：“都是你！都是你把它害死了！！……”然后就把自己关在卫生间里，哭得喘不上气来：“花瓣儿要死了！我的小花瓣儿要死了！……”
贺子强作镇静，心里也怕得厉害。看着那一团绒毛越缩越小，心一横：死马当作活马医吧，儿子小时候生病怎么办，现在也怎么办！这么想着，就拿了一瓶氟派酸，一盒感冒通，各拿出两片捣成末，调好，放在小金属勺子里，一手夹紧花瓣儿，一手把小勺硬塞进它嘴里，花瓣儿发出小孩子一般的尖叫声，挣扎着，药只进去了一半。喂完药，贺子出了一身的汗。用儿子小时候的夹被子裹了花瓣儿放进阳台上它的小窝里。忙完了再去看儿子，已然是睡着了。
贺子怎么也睡不着。心里骂着：见鬼！没想到这么个小东西竟让人牵肠挂肚。半夜里起风了，窗帘一掀一掀的把镂空的阴影投到对面的墙上，贺子睁大着眼睛，看着那阴影的变化，心里一缩一缩的，就象是做了什么亏心事。终于，从黑暗的深处，她听见一种嘤嘤的声音，好象小孩在哭。她真的不知道原来小狗还会发出这样的声音，过去她还出去。在黑暗中，她看见那一小团白白的绒毛，一双明亮的大眼睛静静地盯着她，她说，花瓣儿。那团小绒毛就直立起来，两个小爪子抱紧她的腿。她突然一阵心酸。这么个小生灵，这么弱小，无父无母的，在这个世界上，唯一能依靠的就是她和儿子了。这么想着，就把它抱起来，它的小身体毛茸茸的又温暖又软和，小脸紧紧贴着她的脸，好象在说，妈妈，我好了！以为小狗只会汪汪叫呢。
她悄悄地走
贺子从此象是多了一个女儿。清早，花瓣儿会溜进贺子的房间，跳上她的床，用小舌头把她舔醒。她知道溜狗的时间到了。她问：出出吗？它的小脑袋就一下子歪向一侧，她故意逗它，又问：“绳绳呢？”它就一下子欢跳起来，小脑袋歪向另一边，她忍不住格格地笑。因为出去永远和绳子联在一起。她在宠物商店花了七十元买了一根拴狗的绳子，宠物商店的东西都很贵，差不多都是为那些大款们预备着的，象贺子这样的工薪阶层，能把人养活好就不错了，哪儿还养得起狗？一只小狗在市内上户口，要花人民币五千元。还有规定，溜狗时间必须在早七点前和晚八点后，若在冬天，便等于两头不见太阳。因为没有钱，贺子至今还没给花瓣儿报户口。但在溜狗的时候，她发现其实周围的小狗差不多都没报户口，也就不那么惶惶然了。
北京的污染似乎越来越严重。象一座大工地，到处都在施工，噪音、拥挤的车辆和人群把居所挤压得越来越小，为了对付日益增多的交通工具，路口的拐角处增设了一道道红绿灯，但就是这样也阻挡不住爆满的人流车流。贺子的居所前原是有一片草坪的，可现在，早已被工地占领了一半，下一步，就该砍掉那些亭亭如盖的树，搭起工棚，扬起一片钢筋混凝土的粉尘，与街道上的含铅汽油混为一体。——连草地都是灰蒙蒙的，贺子真的不知道该带花瓣儿去哪儿玩了。一天下来若是不洗澡，花瓣儿美丽的白毛便成了灰的，灰里透黑，只有一条小粉舌头还那么鲜艳。
小狗们在一起便有了比较。拆迁房的丽丽也是小母狗，长得就远不如花瓣儿撩人，还有后楼的球球、毛毛和跳跳，都是串种的京叭，没什么新鲜的，倒是12楼的卡尔比较漂亮，也是雪白的长毛，纯种西施，是小狗里的贵族，可惜年纪大了一些，不然和花瓣儿倒是挺好的一对。贺子寻摸了一圈也没发现配得上花瓣儿的狗，于是心里又失望又骄傲又有一种美丽的孤独，说不上来是什么滋味。倒是欢欢有一颗平常心，欢欢带花瓣儿出来的时候，就买一支雪糕，让所有的小狗都围着自己转。狗的主人也都熟悉起来。贺子最烦的是卡尔的爸。卡尔的爸是附近一家餐厅的经理，好歹也算个款了，卡尔又出众，就骄傲得很，平时见着只扬一扬脖子，还总是手里拿一瓶矿泉水，不时地把水倒进手心里，喂卡尔喝。天热的时候还常往卡尔身上洒一些降温，透着一种贵族派头，但是让贺子看来，却绝对是暴发户的行为。
有一天，仲夏的夜晚，贺子洗过澡，穿一身价值15元的大花人造棉背心大裤衩牵着花瓣儿出来了，原是怕见人，有意晚些出来的，谁想就偏偏碰上卡尔父子。贺子就扯绳子，想避开，谁知花瓣儿和卡尔一往情深，两相爱悦，一见面就搅在一起了，亲昵地互相又吻又咬，拉都拉不开。卡尔的爸便居高临下地斜乜着花瓣儿：“这小狗儿长得还行，叫什么？”那模样儿就象是头一回见花瓣儿似的。贺子气不打一处来：“您可真是贵人多忘事啊，忘了上回卡尔跟我们家欢欢要雪糕……”“噢噢，叫花瓣儿，对么？什么种？不象是纯种京叭啊。”“当然不是京叭，”贺子的下颏也扬得高高的，“这是德国博美犬，很稀有的品种。”其实，贺子心里根本拿不准花瓣儿是不是博美，但看着卡尔爸就想杀一杀他的威风。
卡尔的爸脸上一下子透出惊奇：“是那种德国博美？来，花瓣儿，跑两步儿！”
花瓣儿就跑起来。花瓣儿跑起来象一团跳动的白云，飞一样，卡尔使了全身的力气也追不上。卡尔的爸眼睛就亮了：“还真是博美！天呐，博美可是最好的玩赏狗哇，长大了还会帮你看家做事的！”贺子故意淡淡的：“是嘛？”卡尔的爸开始喋喋不休地卖弄他的养狗知识：“德国博美活泼可爱又忠诚勇敢，心眼儿宽，小巧不占空间，找不出什么缺点，……不过话说回来了，咱们这一片儿还就是咱两家的狗名贵，你们花瓣儿……多大了？”贺子立即牵起绳子说：“我们花瓣儿还小着呢。”说着就走，卡尔的爸在后边说：“可别象拆迁房的丽丽长成老姑娘了！”贺子没回头，心说，“管得着么？！我们花瓣儿就是做老姑娘，也不嫁你们卡尔那老头儿！”转念一想，又忍不住扑哧一笑，忽然觉着，自打有了花瓣儿，自己的心境竟年轻了许多，也快乐了许多。
回家一看，欢欢正在洗脚，见了妈妈就把大嘴一撅：“妈，我发现你现在喜欢花瓣儿胜过喜欢我了！”贺子给花瓣儿卸了绳子，换了一碗清水，花瓣儿扑上去咕咚咚地喝。贺子眉开眼笑地看着它，嘴里说：“瞎说，你是我亲生的儿子，它不过是个小狗，哪就能跟你比了？说这话真没良心！”欢欢嘟囔着：“反正我觉得有了它你就不那么关心我了！”“那把它扔了！炖了！红烧了！”贺子说着自己也笑起来，又去煮排骨，欢欢的嘴撇得更厉害了：“排骨你自己都舍不得吃，还说不是最喜欢它！”贺子道：“你们俩吃不就得了，小狗小人儿都一样，得补钙！不然得了软骨病不是更麻烦？！”母子俩你一言我一语地说着，贺子已经把排骨煮好，又收拾了一遍欢欢的书包，花瓣儿吃过宵夜，已然是午夜十二点了，贺子这才上了床，抓了本养狗大全翻着，她想她得恶补一段养狗的知识了。
自那天起，贺子常常和卡尔的爸不期而遇。两人都淡淡的，互相避讳，却又暗中较劲。譬如卡尔的爸时常坐在石台上，脱下一只拖鞋一甩，然后说：“卡尔，去把拖鞋给我叼回来！”卡尔就一拐一拐地跑出去，真的把拖鞋叼回来了。贺子暗暗撇一下嘴：“这算什么稀奇，当众甩鞋也太不雅观。真够农民的。”就叫花瓣儿去叼绳子，花瓣儿立即把绳子叼回来，动作比卡尔又利索又漂亮。卡尔的爸悻悻的就要走，临走还不忘了显摆：“卡尔，跟花瓣儿再见！”卡尔就直起身来，一只前爪抬在额前，好象在说再见。贺子也不示弱：“花瓣儿，跟卡尔拜拜！”花瓣儿于是也立起身子，把两只小爪子放在胸前，象是在作辑。卡尔的爸竭力要显得寡淡，还是忍不住笑起来，小声嘟囔着“好狗”，踽踽而去。
转瞬到了秋天。又赶上要过十一，五十五周年大庆，把外地车外地人都赶走了，北京好象一下子大了许多，空旷了许多，也宁静和明亮了许多。一场秋雨落下来，把草木冲刷出本来的绿色，贺子和儿子欢欢的学校刚开学不久，贺子因为当了区里的模范教师，有了一笔奖
金，就想赶紧把花瓣儿的户口报上。好不容易抽空去了，回答是：停办了，得等明年的五、六月再办。只好回来。
花瓣儿长大了许多，有十斤重了，毛又白又长，眼睛又黑又亮，特别恋人，阳台是决不去的了，连沙发也不再躺，一定要上床睡，今天跟妈妈，明天跟哥哥，倒也会玩平衡。假如妈妈和哥哥坐在一起，花瓣儿就一定要钻在两个人的中间。花瓣儿会看家了，如果有生人来，还在楼道里就开始汪汪叫，平常对妈妈和哥哥，花瓣儿是绝对不叫的，想表达什么意思，就娇嘀嘀地哼哼，那种声音可真难拿，能拐出十八道弯儿，贺子想，那种发音就象当年医疗队用针灸把哑吧扎好了似的，咿咿呀呀的，千年的铁树开了花。欢欢说：花瓣儿就差会说人话了，要是哪天它突然说出人话就好了，绝对上吉尼斯。贺子说，就是花瓣儿说人话我也不奇怪。它哪象个小狗儿，分明是个小人儿嘛！母子俩就都笑。花瓣儿已经来了一次“月经”，贺子从养狗大全里知道，小母狗儿半年来一次月经，要来三次月经之后才能怀孕，所以贺子最近对女儿看管格外严。
这天晚饭之后花瓣儿就闹着出去。刚走到楼房拐角处，贺子忽然听到一个压低了的声音：“快，快把花瓣儿抱回去！”贺子一惊，看到卡尔的爸面无表情地盯着自己，“怎么了？”“出事儿了，卡尔被抓走了！赶紧走！”
贺子抱着花瓣儿一路小跑地回了家，欢欢听说卡尔的事儿就下楼去了，一会儿回来，喘吁吁地说：“十一前查狗，卡尔出来早了半个小时，让分局给抓走了！”贺子惊魂未定地抱着花瓣儿，心里感念着卡尔的爸，又想卡尔是有户口的，不过出来早了半小时还抓，要是花瓣儿给抓了可不得了，就和欢欢商量着，十一前先把花瓣儿送到农村姑姑家，暂避一时。
夜深了，看着儿子搂着小狗睡得酣甜，贺子怎么也睡不着。悄悄下了楼，就见常去的草坪边上，深深的黑暗中有一星星红的烟火。卡尔的爸在吸烟，他努力装作镇静，但平时神气活现的餐馆老板好象一下子矮了一截，贺子心里掠过一丝怜悯，便问卡尔的事儿。“我刚从分局回来，没什么事儿，明天一早儿就能回来了。不过是罚点儿钱。”卡尔的爸狠狠抽一大口烟，“不过我劝你还是让花瓣儿到郊区去避避吧，听说十一前天天查狗，要挨家登记。查着黑户口的狗就收，再卖给医院作活体解剖。……就是不卖给医院，小狗儿也够受罪的，……”“卡尔受罪了？”“咳，刚才我去瞧了瞧，分局把狗转移到大仓库去了，一千多只，汪汪一起叫，小伙子一着急，拿着高压水龙就喷，把一屋儿小狗儿都给喷蕞了！刚才我去的时候，一只叫的都没有，全是黑呼呼的，挤在一只脏碗边喝水呢，……我们家卡尔哪受过这罪！……”想装得没事，可是声音已经变调了，眼泪就在眼眶里转悠。贺子觉得自己的眼圈也开始发烫：“真是的，一只小狗儿招谁惹谁了？得，您也甭瞎想了，快回家休息吧，今儿个还真得谢谢您……”卡尔的爸挥挥手，“街里街坊的谢什么？您快回去吧，我得呆会儿，回去也睡不着，再说，闺女媳妇儿都在家哭，我不好受哇！……”
周末，贺子求朋友出了趟车去昌平，把花瓣儿送到姑姑家去了。嫁女儿似的，嫁妆送了一大堆，有花瓣儿平常最爱吃的烤鱼片、巧克力、牛肉干和小泥肠，为了拉关系，贺子拿着巧克力专门去喂姑姑家的狗，没想到那些狗们见了巧克力都直躲。看看那只怀孕的小母狗，盘子里不过放着点剩面条，比别的狗多了一点西红柿而已。姑姑笑道：“它怎么认得巧克力？没的糟蹋东西！”姑姑家有四只狗，一只德国黑背，一只法国牧羊犬，两只西施笨笨和宝宝，怀孕的正是宝宝，好在几只狗都没对花瓣儿产生什么敌意，但也并不热情，吻一吻，摇着尾巴就走了，唯有笨笨，疯了似的追着花瓣儿，里里外外地跑，气得姑姑骂道：“真是痴心女子负心汉，它媳妇还怀着它的种呢，它就改追别人了！”逗得大家笑成一片，贺子也笑：“它叫笨笨，可是一点也不笨呢！”说笑着告别了农家院，没觉着怎么悲伤，可一路上就受不了了。仍是朋友开车，欢欢低着头，坐在副驾驶位置上，贺子坐在后面，从她的角度看，只能看见他的裤腿，一点点地打湿了，湿得越来越大，终于发出忍不住的啜泣，贺子就觉得自己的眼泪也在往下流，心里空落落的，想着那个毛茸茸热乎乎软绵绵的小身体，要是这会儿在自己胸前紧紧搂着，该有多踏实。
当晚就战战兢兢地打了个电话，姑姑的大嗓门儿让娘儿俩都踏实了：“没事儿，挺好，不怎么吃东西，没关系，小狗刚换地儿都这样儿，几天儿就好，犟也犟不过四五天儿去！放心吧你们！”第二天又打电话，姑姑的声音小了些：“还是什么都不吃，不过没事儿，宝宝和笨笨才来的时候都这样！我有经验！”贺子在电话里低声下气的：“姑姑，您有办法，不管怎么着您哄着它吃点儿，成吗？”姑姑说，放心。但是不知怎么这话让贺子听起来有点儿底气不足。
第三天，贺子要去西安出差，又打电话，怎么也打不通。提拎着心去了西安，第二天凌晨做了个梦，梦见花瓣儿迎着风跑，银缎子似的一身长毛全部张开来，就象一股银色旋风，从天边的云彩里跑过来，跑到贺子面前的时候突然直立，两个小爪子搭在她的腿上，口吐人言道：“妈妈，我好想你！”贺子悚然惊醒，看着窗外一片早霞，发呆。
一周之后，贺子回家。正是周日，欢欢却不在家。家里乱得可怕，贺子机械地收拾着，心里也乱起来。快到中午，电话铃突然爆炸似的响起来，把贺子吓得发抖，半晌才拿起电话。电话是姑姑来的，说的什么贺子已经听不清了，她只觉得耳朵里象装了个鼓风机，嗡嗡地响。之后的一切她都记不清了，连她自己也不知道是怎么来到姑姑家的，她只记得好象折腾了好长时间，换了好几次车，还花了不少钱，总之到姑姑家的时候天已经擦黑儿了。姑姑一家人都在，欢欢也在这里，欢欢的眼睛肿得吓人。姑姑也哭了，说：“我养过这么些狗，没见过这么拧的！它就是不吃，塞进去又吐出来，就那么对着你们家的方向，一夜一夜地叫，头两天我觉着没事儿，第三天害怕了，就给你们打电话，没人儿接，找你们学校，说是出差了，几天儿就回来，没想到……这小狗可真是条义犬哪！它不是玩赏狗，种好，……真是对不住，对不住了啊！……这么着吧，这两天宝宝就该生了，给你们挑一只抱过去？虽然比不上花瓣儿，到底也是纯种的西施，总比没有强吧？”
贺子也忘了自己是摇了头还是点了头，后来就领着欢欢和姑姑一家去看花瓣儿的坟了，在南山岗子上。姑姑说，按照风水的说法这是极好的地方，依山傍水，左青龙右白虎。贺子和欢欢就采了些野花，收成一束，放在那座小小的坟前。欢欢哭了又哭，一直哭到哭不出声来，贺子却一滴泪也没掉，只是呆着脸，也不劝欢欢，也不说话。
十一过后，姑姑真的把小狗送来了，也是银白色的长毛，非常美丽，也象花瓣儿刚来的时候，走道儿都不利索。娘儿俩给它起了个名字叫包包。当天晚上贺子就带着它下楼沾沾地气儿，只见前一段藏起来的小狗们又都纷纷出笼了，却唯独不见卡尔。等到天全黑了卡尔的爸才出来，一脸晦气。贺子问：“卡尔呢？”良久不语，后来终于说：“上回……给打瘸了……”“要他们赔啊！”“算了吧，还不够我赔的呢！罚了三千，上户口五千，交了八千才算把卡尔领回来。”“难道卡尔也没上户口？”“上是上了，是通县的户口，不算。……你这小家伙，这么漂亮，可得小心点儿！是花瓣儿生的？”贺子用力点了点头，“漂亮！太漂亮了！”他不错眼珠地盯着包包，眼里似乎有了泪水，“我们卡尔要是不遭这个难……唉，不怕您笑话，当时领回卡尔的时候看它那样儿，我心都碎了！……”卡尔的爸竟然呜呜地哭起来，一个大老爷们儿，哭得象是孩子似的。
连贺子自己也闹不清为什么要对卡尔的爸撒谎。实际上，她一直没敢正视花瓣儿已死的现实。卡尔的爸哭泣的时候她哭不出来，她不愿陪着个大男人掉眼泪，但是现在，夜深人静的时候，她再也忍不住了。花瓣儿死了，一只那么美丽可爱的小狗，没招谁没惹谁，就因为太忠诚，太爱主人，就那么莫名其妙地死了，坚贞不屈地死了，毫不苟且地死了，它死得多干净，它活得多纯粹啊，她想。可她做不到，它比她强多了，无论遇着了什么，她只能苟且地活着。泪水如同开闸的渠水一般源源不绝一浪高过一浪地涌出来，无法抑制。不知过了多久，她感到有一个毛茸茸热呼呼软绵绵的小东西爬到了自己脸上，伸出娇嫩的小舌头，轻轻地舔干她的泪。
她伸出手，紧紧地搂着它，感觉到一个小生命的存在。一个生命实在太脆弱了，它来到这个世界要遇到多少危险啊，她想她一定要竭尽全力保护它，它虽然不过是个小狗，可它也有理由好好活着，不被作践。但愿它的运气会比花瓣儿好些，谁知道呢。这么想着，沉沉地睡去了。
在梦中，她看见霞光一片，一片雪白的花海中，一只雪白的小狗儿在欢快地跳着，乍看象是花瓣儿，细看又是包包，她扑过去，却怎么也够不着，后来她索性不够了，就那么看，霞光花海变成了一个巨大的屏幕，花瓣儿、包包、卡尔、笨笨、宝宝、丽丽、球球……都在跳着优美的舞蹈，象是电影里的慢镜头似的，她在梦中微微笑了，就在那一瞬间，包包醒了，它睁开一双又黑又亮的大眼睛，好奇地看着妈妈奇怪的表情——含着眼泪微笑，它觉得自己这辈子也学不会。
Xu Xiaobin was born in 1953 into an intellectual family in Beijing and began publishing her writings in 1981. Xu Xiaobin is noted for writings of searing emotional honesty about gender and sexuality that push the boundaries of what is politically acceptable in today's China. Her novel Crystal Wedding (2015) was longlisted for the 2016 Financial Times Oppenheimer Emerging Voices Award and won a PEN Translates award.
Nickyy Harman lives in the UK. She is a full-time translator of Chinese, focusing on fiction, literary nonfiction, and occasionally poetry, by authors such as Chen Xiwo, Han Dong, Hong Ying, Dorothy Tse, Xinran, Xu Xiaobin, Yan Ge, Yan Geling and Zhang Ling. She gives regular talks and workshops on translation. Along with Eric Abrahamsen and others, she runs the READ PAPER REPUBLIC project, posting and promoting free-to-view short stories translated from Chinese. She organizes translation-focused events, mentors new translators and judges translation competitions. She was co-Chair of the Translators Association (Society of Authors, UK) from 2014-2017.