Write some essays and tell a short story.

About a week ago, I woke up at six for breakfast.

On the way, I met a restaurant that opened, and the owner opened the door and smashed out a lump of things.

It almost hit me, and I was startled.

The shopkeeper smiled and said sorry, said it was a cat, and went in.

When I took a closer look, it was actually a kitten, just weaned.

She was covered in super glue from the rats and wrapped in a red plastic bag.

I couldn't bear it, so I took her home and washed her with water.

I did not wash off the glue.

I checked on the Internet, and it turned out to be washed with sesame oil.

So I washed her clean with sesame oil.

I found her unexpectedly good-looking.

White, with large eyes and black and orange spots on the body. It's so cute when you look at me.

I was so happy that I had picked up such a beautiful cat.

Presumably it will look better when it grows up.

So I bought a lot of cat groceries and came back.

She's lively, has a big appetite, is healthy, and clingy. I even took her to sleep, hoping that the cat would grow up quickly and grow into a big fat cat, and even think about how often to bathe, how often to get vaccinated, and how often to be neutered.

I think it's a gift from God.

Because I've always wanted to get a cat, I just don't know how to start.

Now fate has given me an irrefutable reason.

Let's raise it.

God said.

......

And then just yesterday, I was going back to my grandmother's house once.

The cat was kept at home and given to my father to take care of.

I was at my grandmother's house in the afternoon when my father called me.

Say the cat is dead.

Sneaking out to play in the yard was bitten to death by other passing dogs.

When I got home, I saw her tiny body lying on the ground.

Stiff and cold.

Obviously, she licked my fingers softly and warmly last night.

I don't know why.

......

......

When I wrote these words, I thought it was ridiculous.

If I go back to my grandmother's house a day late, if I tell my father that the cat is actually convenient in the litter box, if I lock her on the second floor before leaving, if I take her to my grandmother's house......

I had 10,000 ifs to avoid it, but I didn't.

And then the worst happened.

Friends say that cats are animals that pay attention to fate.

I think so.

I used to think that stories have meaning, that everything that people experience has meaning, but now I doubt that.

If chaos and chance can take a life together, then what is the point of me meeting her?

What is the purpose of her existence?

I don't understand.

I really don't understand.

I dreamed of the last time I left the house, she was crouching on the ground and looking up at me through the screen.

Is she telling me not to go? Or is she telling me to take her away.

I do not know.

I didn't even get to take a picture of her.

In the end, I buried her in a small box under the osmanthus tree, and spent the whole night thinking about the meaning of her life.

But I'm too stupid to find the answer.