Tell you, this is the story of rhubarb and me.

When I was young, I lived in the countryside with my grandparents, in the northeast countryside.

About five or six years old, a distant relative gave us a puppy, which is said to be a hybrid of a local dog and a German dog. When I first came here, I couldn't walk and I wasn't weaned. He had to build a nest in a hole with firewood beside the stove. At that time, there was a sheep at home. Every day when grandpa milks the goat's milk, he gives it a small bowl and puts it in the hole. It smelled milk and climbed out. The fetus's hair was covered with hay leaves, and his eyes narrowed into a small crack. He put his head into the bowl. Small tongue licked the goat's milk in the bowl.

Soon, the goods grew up and were chained to the barn in the yard to watch the gate. It has brown hair like kraft paper, a pair of thick eyebrows like German shepherd, and a pair of upright triangular ears. Its eyes are clear and its expression is alert.

If a stranger comes, it will immediately stare at the sound source on all fours, whether it is taking a nap or chasing its tail. If it is in a hurry, it will walk backwards and make the chain jingle. Others were shocked by its power, came to my house and rushed into the house through the gate, as if their asses were on fire.

Rhubarb barks at outsiders and never barks at me. Even if I go outside the wall, it seems to be able to tell whether it is my smell or footsteps. Whenever I come home from school and pass by the barn, it will look at me excitedly, wag its tail and walk around with a chain to attract my attention.

I like it and gave it a tacky name-"rhubarb". Don't worry, I like to tease it, "rhubarb! Come on! Eat! " When I call it, I throw an apple or sweet potato at it, and it will jump up every time and bite it firmly and accurately with its mouth. Later, I saw many dogs, and few of them could do it on their own initiative without training.

When I touch its fur, it will sit down and let me touch it as comfortably as in the sun. The hair between its nose and forehead is short and hard, and it feels like a finger stroking the hair of a toothbrush head. It's fun. I won't let it go every time ...

At that time, I was young and knew nothing about pets, but I often took him out for a walk. He walked in front and I followed him with a chain. I often run while walking. First I took him, and he caught up with me in a few steps, running ahead and dragging me faster and faster. I couldn't keep up, so I shouted "rhubarb, stop." It will definitely stop immediately, turn to look at me, watch me gasp, and it will stick out its tongue. I went to touch its head and ran without waiting for it to notice. It often starts chasing me after a pause. I couldn't outrun its four legs with two legs, and I was thrown out at the beginning.

So you can see that on the country road, my arm was dragged forward by it, and my upper body was out of balance, and my hair was blown in a mess by the wind ... one person and one dog, flying dust under their feet, fighting for their lives, like two idiots taking drugs. ...

It's cold in autumn and winter, shivering on the ground. Grandpa doesn't care, but I feel distressed. I dug out the old tire ring from the wing, padded it with my soft dry straw, stuffed some rags and put it under the barn, which was its home.

When it snows, I lie on the windowsill in the house and look through the window glass. It curled up in the tire ring and seemed to sleep soundly.

But grandpa didn't like it very much, and the conditions at home were not very good at that time, so pigs ate whatever they ate. Corn residue and vegetable soup, this is its rice.

It is getting thinner and thinner, the skeleton can be seen, and its hair is turning yellow, like a grassy slope in the mountains after late autumn. I seldom touch it.

One day when I came back from school, I heard rhubarb purring without entering the courtyard door, accompanied by a dull slap.

Rhubarb I walked in the door and ran to the barn! I saw grandpa swearing with a shovel in his mouth, and rhubarb hiding under the barn with its tail between its legs. One of them got a shovel when he accidentally exposed himself, and bang! I seem to have got a bang in my chest. "Grandpa, don't hit it! Don't hit it! Don't fight ... "I grabbed my grandfather's arm and begged, tears fell out.

"Don't hit it? It caught the chicken and ate it, look! " Grandpa broke my hand and pointed angrily at a chicken feather bone under the barn. Suddenly speechless, I can only touch my tears and pull my grandfather's arm. Grandpa loves me. Maybe he saw me crying and put down his shovel and walked away.

Later, I learned that rhubarb caught the chicken because it was too hungry. The dog can't eat any meat, so it has to catch it by itself. I even saw it catch a sparrow and a mouse ... slowly, I began to secretly take some meat from the table, and then I secretly threw it to it and watched it eat nothing. I stood on the side and was stupid.

In 2009, grandma died of illness. Grandpa found a stepmother to take care of me and then went to work in the city. Later, I don't like rhubarb. She always wanted to sell it. I don't agree, but grandpa agrees. I can't beat them.

That afternoon, knowing that rhubarb was going to be sold, I sat on a stone by the barn, chanting how much I hated this post-milk, how much I didn't want her to sell rhubarb, and how much I liked rhubarb ... I chanted, walked up to rhubarb and gently stroked its hair, its dry hair. Inadvertently touched the hair on its back, the spine was covered with skin one by one, and some hands were really skinny. I suddenly raised my hand and it looked up at me. Somehow, my tears came out.

The dog buyer drove up. Behind the car is a big iron cage filled with all kinds of dogs. When rhubarb was put in the car, I turned around and couldn't bear to look at it, but I heard its whine. A bloody picture flashed through my mind: rhubarb was taken to the slaughterhouse, stunned with a wooden stick, peeled, the skin was sold to leather factories, and the meat was sold to dog meat restaurants ... no! It is so thin that the owner of the dog meat restaurant may not even want it, and its meat may be thrown to other dogs. ...

I dare not think. I rushed into the house, closed the door and sobbed. I didn't open the door until the dog cart left, and looked at the empty tire rims under the barn.

Rhubarb is sold to 50 yuan.

Later, I went to study in the city. Every time I saw a dog, I always felt that the dog's eyes were rhubarb, but obviously they were not rhubarb. The rhubarb might have disappeared long ago.

The appearance of rhubarb is clearly imprinted on my mind, when I climbed out to lick goat's milk, when I looked at the door, when I jumped up to bite an apple, when I was running, when I was panting, when I was curled up in the tire ring when it snowed, when I was beaten. ...

One night, I found a movie "Loyal Dog Eight Heroes" to watch. Finally, I saw a person crying in the quilt, and I could only hear the sound of tears falling on the quilt, tick, tick. ...

Many years later, I read a sentence in a book: When we need beef, the pure eyes of the cow, Cleisthenes's cry, running and walking, passion and excitement should all be thrown away as offal.

Dear Naifen, have you ever had a pet? Tell me about you and it in the message.

For example:

///How do you know each other?

///What did you name it?

///What interesting things have happened between you?

? Pay attention to "milk powder"

? Harvest a fragrance, a kind of nutrition.