On an early winter day , a Friday morning of November, I was at my office table, looking at the blinking cursor of the mobile phone screen, thinking of what to write on the pages of my journal.
There was nobody in the office but me, it was quiet, the soft and warm light from the sun ran through the bright window was quiet, too. Sitting quietly like this often brings me into a take-stock mind which containing all kinds of things that I have had and would, the dog was one of them.
Before I had been forty-two years old, I wished for the thousandth time that in my lifeI had a dog, a brave gray handsome wolf hound, maybe, for traveling with me or company me at home . Fortunately, a friend from my hometown Laicun gave me a dog, but it was not a large hound, but a pure white samoyed, though it was also high and big and hard, it was coward and stupid then, and is now.
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