Write some essays and tell a short story.

About a week ago, I got up at six o'clock to have breakfast.

I met a restaurant on the road and the owner opened the door and threw out a bunch of stuff.

It almost hit me and I was shocked.

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

I took a closer look and saw that it was a kitten that had just been weaned.

Her whole body was covered in rat glue and wrapped in a red plastic bag.

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

Didn't wash off the glue.

I checked online and found out that I need to use sesame oil for washing.

So I washed her with sesame oil.

I found her unexpectedly pretty.

She is white, has big eyes, and has black and orange spots on her body. She is so cute when she looks at me.

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

I think she will look better when she grows up.

So I bought a lot of cat daily necessities.

She is very lively, has a strong appetite, is very healthy, and is very clingy. I even take her to sleep, hoping that this cat will grow up quickly and become a big fat cat. I even ask how often to bathe, how often to vaccinate, and how often to I have already thought about sterilization.

I think this is a gift from God.

Because I have always wanted to get a cat, but I just didn’t know how to start.

Now fate has given me an irrefutable reason.

Raise it.

God said.

...

Then just yesterday, I had to go back to my grandma's house.

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

When I was at my grandma's house in the afternoon, my father called me.

Said the cat was dead.

He sneaked out to play in the yard and was bitten to death by another passing dog.

I came home and saw her little body lying on the floor.

Stiff and cold.

Obviously last night she was licking my fingers softly and warmly.

I don't know why.

...

...

When I wrote these words, I felt ridiculous.

If I go back to grandma's house one day late, if I tell my father that cats can actually be in the litter box, if I lock her on the second floor before leaving, if I take her to grandma's house...

I had a million ways I could have avoided this, but I didn't.

Then the worst happened.

A friend said that cats are animals that value fate.

I deeply agree.

I used to think that every story has its meaning, and everything a person experiences has its meaning, but now I doubt this.

If chaos and accidental meaninglessness mixed together can take away a life, then what is the point of me meeting her?

What is the meaning of her existence?

I can't understand.

I really don't understand.

I always dreamed that when I finally left home, she was squatting on the ground and looking up at me through the screen window.

Is she asking me not to leave? Or is she asking me to take her away?

I have no idea.

I didn't even have time to take a photo of her.

Finally, I put her in a small box and buried her under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree. I spent the whole night thinking about the meaning of her life.
Chapter completed!