Wednesday, June 24, 2026, Sunny.
The sun is bright and the breeze is gentle today. Sitting on the balcony, I watch the fluffy little black puppy rolling on the lawn downstairs, its tail wagging like a tiny windmill. Her name is Little Black Girl, my companion of three years and the warmest backdrop to my life.
When Little Black Girl first came to my home, she was only over a month old, her coat glossy jet-black like a soft lump of ink. My grandpa said she was a mixed Pekingese, mild-tempered yet quick-witted. I named her Little Black Girl because her round, big eyes always seem to speak when she looks at you: “Master, I’m so cute, don’t forget about me.”
At first, she was shy and timid, shrinking into a corner at the slightest noise. But the moment I called her name, she’d prick up her ears, push off with her short little legs and dash over to leap into my arms. At such moments, the whole world falls silent, leaving only her soft purr and the fuzzy warmth of her fur.
Little Black Girl is a total foodie. She only craves bones and savory meat, turning up her nose at rice soaked in soup. Every time I take out snacks, she sits bolt upright at once, resting her front paws on the table, her eyes sparkling like stars. If I refuse to share, she whines to act coquettish, and even deliberately drops her toys at my feet as if to say: “If you won’t give me any treats, I’ll hide your slippers!”
She also has a “bad habit” — she hates being left at home alone whenever someone heads out. The second I grab my keys, she bolts straight for the door, her tail spinning like a propeller. She insists on tagging along even if I’m just popping downstairs to buy a bottle of water. Once I took her to the park, and she chased a kite all the way, nearly crashing into a utility pole. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, yet she rubbed her head innocently against my leg as if saying: “Master, that kite was so fun!”
What touches me most is that she knows how to comfort me. Once I failed an exam and sat blankly on the sofa by myself. She quietly jumped up, rested her head on my lap, rubbed against me gently and licked my hand with her tiny tongue. Right then, I suddenly realized: she is far more than just a dog — she is the being who understands me best in my life.
Though she cannot understand human words, she shows me through every action that love means unconditional companionship. She never minds my mood swings nor looks down on me when I’m worn out. All she wants is to be the first to dash over and greet me when I get home, conveying in her own way: “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Now Little Black Girl has grown into a handsome, mischievous young dog. She’s become best buddies with our family cat Mimi. One loves batting yarn balls, the other chases her own tail, and they often curl up and sleep together like a pair of brothers.
Keeping a pet is never about possession; it is a tender two-way bond. With lifelong loyalty, she has taught me how to love, how to cherish, and how to notice the tiny, shining moments hidden in daily life.
If you’re still hesitating whether to get a pet, trust me: they may not speak a word, but they will spend their whole lives making you know that you matter deeply.
May every lonely soul meet a furry friend who will walk through all four seasons by their side.
— Written on a bright, sunny afternoon, with Little Black Girl dozing at my feet.
