Metaphysics’ Public Enemy 24p1

Chapter 24 Part 1:

Tormented by an Evil Spirit (Part 7):

Youfu, Youfu, Are You Still There?

He was a firefighter, a search and rescue dog. He had a home, a pack, a team of humans. He spent his days at the fire station, in the truck, and often amidst rubble, his keen nose searching for survivors.

He wasn’t a pedigreed dog, just a black mutt with coarse fur and smooth skin, not particularly handsome, the kind that often ended up on dinner tables. He had been a stray, rescued by the firefighters, growing strong and healthy under their care.

He was six years old then. A flood had devastated a nearby town, houses washed away, people missing. He had worked tirelessly, his human partner by his side, searching through the debris. While others rested, he continued to sniff around the wreckage. He barked excitedly, catching a scent, someone trapped beneath the rubble. He ran towards the source, pinpointing the location, but before he could alert his partner, a hand covered his mouth.

He lost consciousness.

When he woke up, the familiar scent of his pack was gone. He didn’t know where he was, tied up with a rope, no collar, his uniform stripped away.

He smelled blood, the scent of his companions, the scent of death. He snarled, his teeth bared. Severed dog paws lay scattered on the ground. Dogs whimpered and barked in cages, crammed together, their spirits broken.

The dog trader, seeing his size, worried he would lose weight from stress, decided to kill him quickly, sharpening his knife outside.

A rope was tied tightly around his neck. He knew this feeling. His firefighter friends had practiced this many times during training. His teeth were sharp. He gnawed through the rope, an easy task. The caged dogs barked, and the man outside banged the knife against a sharpening stone, silencing them.

He couldn’t open the cage lock. He couldn’t help the other dogs. He bit the man guarding the cages and ran.

The man chased him, but he was fast, agile, disappearing into the narrow alleys, leaving the man behind. But he couldn’t find his way home. The familiar scent was gone. He wandered aimlessly, the ground beneath his paws unfamiliar. He was far away, lost. He whimpered softly.

He was hungry, but where could he find food? He couldn’t go near people; they would chase him away.

He kept walking, until, exhausted, he found a quiet alley. A pile of discarded cardboard lay against a wall, a makeshift shelter. He walked over, finding a spot and curling up, closing his eyes, longing for his home, his pack.

He fell asleep, awakened by the sound of footsteps.

He sat up instantly.

A black dog stared back at him, its head raised. The man was startled. He waved his hand dismissively. “Go away, this is my territory.”

The dog lowered its head, moving to a cold patch of concrete, then lay down in a corner.

It watched the man, its head resting on the ground.

After a while, it smelled food, and it stood up, its gaze fixed on the source.

It licked its lips, barking at the man.

“What?” the man said. “You want some?”

He shielded his lunchbox. “It’s just a piece of spare rib, I can’t share it with you.”

The dog whined, licking its lips.

The man chuckled. He had a box of leftover rice and a pancake. He had earned ten yuan today collecting scrap, five yuan for the pancake, the leftover rice reheated from last night, the spare rib begged from a restaurant owner.

The dog sat there, its head lowered, its eyes bright, its gaze more intense than any other stray dog’s. The man had never been watched like this while eating.

He watched the dog pawing at the ground, its whimpers growing louder, until, annoyed, he tossed the bone at it. “Just the bone, take it or leave it.”

The dog barked, quickly devouring the bone.

“So eager for a single bone, haven’t you eaten?” The man chuckled. “Well, you’re just a dog, an animal, you can’t compare to humans. I’m living like a dog myself.”

The dog, emboldened by the man’s gesture, approached him, wagging its tail, its tongue lolling out.

“What? Still hungry? Hah…” The man finished his pancake, the dog staring at him, its stomach growling.

“You really are hungry. Fine.” He poured the leftover rice into a bowl. “Don’t starve to death here.”

The dog ate quickly, licking the bowl clean.

The man gathered his things, pulling his coat around him, and slept on a piece of cardboard. He woke up with a start, something furry brushing against his face. He coughed, kicking the dog lightly. “Why are you still here?”

“Go away, shoo!”

The dog stood up. The man glared at it, pulling his coat tighter, fetching some water from a nearby shop, splashing it on his face, and picking up a bundle of rope.

The dog stood alert, barking at him.

The man slung the rope over his shoulder, grabbing the handles of his cart, and walked away without looking back.

He started his day early, rummaging through trash cans and collecting scrap from shop owners.

As he tied a stack of flattened cardboard boxes, he heard a breakfast stall owner yell, “Control your dog! My buns are 1.5 yuan each! If it bites one, you’ll pay!”

“Dog? I don’t have a dog,” the man said, turning to see the black dog following him. It sat obediently, wagging its tail.

“Why are you following me?” he muttered. “Stupid animal, can’t you take a hint?”

“You want a bun? Dream on!”

He pushed his cart, glancing over to see the dog still following him.

“Fine, follow me if you want. I’m a poor man, there’s no meat for you here. You won’t be living the high life with me.”

He finished collecting scrap, pushing his cart towards an old woman who bought recyclables. He looked around, but the dog was gone. He chuckled, continuing on his way.

The old woman weighed his scrap. “Five yuan.”

“It should be six,” the man protested.

“It’s a little short,” the old woman pointed to the scale. “Not enough for six.”

“Hey!” The man was annoyed. “You’re cheating me!”

“Not a penny less! I’m running a business! If you don’t want to sell, take your things and leave!”

“Fine, fine!” The man relented, his anger futile. Then he saw the black dog running towards him, a piece of cardboard in its mouth, its tail wagging. He was stunned. He placed the cardboard on the scale.

“Is that enough now?” he asked.

The old woman glared at him. “You little rascal, where did you get the dog?”

“None of your business, pay up!”

She gave him another yuan, and he left with the dog, a smile on his face.

The dog didn’t bark, only panted softly. On the way back, he looked at it. It was still following him.

He stopped at the breakfast stall. “Any buns left?”

The owner was surprised. “Yes, you want to buy some?”

“Two, please.”

The owner packed the buns, and the man handed him two yuan. “These aren’t fresh, this is all they’re worth.”

“Hey—you! Get out of here!” the owner yelled.

The man chuckled, walking away with the dog, pleased with his bargain. He had no home, only a spot on the street where people dumped their trash.

The dog sat across from him, wagging its tail.

He tossed it a bun. “Here, you earned this. I bought you a bun. We’re even now.”

The dog barked happily, then, after finishing the bun, stood up and offered its paw. The man realized it wanted to shake hands.

He took its paw, surprised. “Quite smart.”

The dog barked again.

“Too bad you’re just a dog, can’t speak human,” the man said. A dog was just an animal.

But the dog continued to follow him everywhere. He didn’t know if it was tired, but he suddenly had a companion. How much could a dog eat? He thought, sharing his food despite his grumbling.

People on the street knew he had a dog now.

He didn’t deny it anymore.

November arrived, the weather turning cold. The dog became less active, whimpering at night. The man realized it had no coat. Humans felt cold, dogs felt cold too. At night, the dog would shiver uncontrollably.

He hadn’t let it sleep with him before.

“Come here,” he beckoned the dog, sharing his worn coat. He was a poor man, his life devoid of comfort. He had seen rich people’s dogs with their own clothes. He was living worse than a dog.

The dog snuggled close, sharing the warmth beneath the coat. What else could they do? Survive.

The man saved up some money, buying some charcoal, allowing them to sleep by a small fire, heating water for instant noodles.

New Year arrived, the sound of firecrackers filling the air, dogs barking freely. The dog had been with him for three months. On New Year’s Eve, he called the dog over, holding out a gift.

A red string with a bell attached, bought for two yuan.

“I can’t afford those fancy things,” the man said. “This will have to do. Wear this, and you’re officially my dog. You can’t leave, even if someone offers you food, understand?”

The dog, with the bell around its neck, jumped up and down excitedly, the bell jingling with each leap.

“Are you that happy?” the man asked.