After getting home at night, I wiped my dog's paws, then took off my glasses and went to the bathroom. I put on a headband to secure my bangs, then started washing my face and doing my skincare routine.
I felt a tap on my calf and looked down to see my dog lying next to my leg, its tail still wagging slowly behind it.
It really is quite clingy.
I don't do anything too fancy with my skin—just moisturizing and applying a black mask. After finishing, I turned and walked to the living room to lie on the sofa.
The dog followed me. After I settled down, it tilted its head at me, probably puzzled by my dark expression.
I reached out and patted its head, then took out my phone to send messages to two groups—one for my family and the other for my colleagues.
First, I updated my family, telling them I had adopted a large dog and sent over a photo of it. Switching to the other group, I shared a few name ideas with Liou Mei and Ouyang Jing.
[Shuai Shuai, Zhuang Zhuang—are you serious?]
Liou Mei was the first to question me, sending a laughing emoji to mock my taste. Although I knew the names I had thought of were a bit old-fashioned, they carried my best wishes.
[Ah Zi, if you're going for such vintage names, why not something like Gongxi, Facai, or Laifu? Aren't those more festive?]
Ouyang Jing's comment made me rethink, and I quickly dismissed names like Shuai Shuai. I needed something with a better meaning.
Just then, my mom texted asking if I had picked a name for the dog. I replied, "Not yet."
Although my family wasn't entirely thrilled about me adopting a dog, they didn't oppose it either. They just commented that I don't even have a boyfriend yet, but here I am, getting a dog.
My response was, "Maybe this dog will bring good luck. Who knows, it might turn my life around."
The older generation thought it made some sense, and they eagerly started suggesting names for the dog.
Naming the dog couldn't wait. By the time I went to bed tonight, it had to have a name. I wrote down the names my parents suggested and a few of my own ideas on separate pieces of paper.
"Come, sit here."
At my command, the dog obediently sat down, and I placed the six pieces of paper with names in front of it.
"Pick one, and touch it with your paw. That'll be your name."
The dog's long gray eyelashes cast a soft shadow under the light, and its golden eyes moved from my face to the pieces of paper on the floor.
I was momentarily mesmerized by its beauty and thought, "Shuai Shuai" might still be a fitting name.
It seemed to seriously consider the options before using its front paw to press down on one of the pieces. After moving its paw away, I picked up the paper to check.
Fatty
Wait, did I write this name? I looked at the paper, then at the dog. The name didn't seem to suit it at all, yet the dog looked oddly proud of itself.
It definitely wasn't one of my suggestions. I opened the chat history on my phone and saw that this was the name my mom had given it.
"Take it."
I handed the paper with the name "Fatty" to the dog, and it cooperatively grabbed it with its mouth. Holding my phone in one hand, I wrapped my other arm around the dog's head and took a loving photo, then sent it to the group.
From now on, the dog would be called Fatty.
Though I didn't think the name carried any special meaning, in some way, my mom and Fatty seemed to match perfectly.
Without a doubt, the name "Fatty" was relentlessly mocked in the group. But when I said it was my mom's choice, their attitude changed immediately—so realistic.
I started calling the dog by its new name, "Fatty," just to help it get used to it. After only one call, it seemed to understand perfectly, which saved me unnecessary worries.
I peeled off my black face mask, washed my face, and wiped it dry, ready to go to bed.
Fatty followed me into the room, and I gently nudged it with my foot, saying, "Out."
This time, its cleverness seemed to have disappeared as it lay down on its back by the door, blocking it so I couldn't close it.
It seemed to finally show some of the dog-like stubbornness I'd been expecting.
I decided to push it harder. In theory, it should weigh about a hundred pounds, so I rolled up my sleeves and pushed with both hands. But to my surprise, it didn't budge, its tail still swishing in front of me.
I grabbed the fluffy tail and gave it a good rub, realizing that it really wanted to come into my bedroom.
But it sheds so much fur. Would my room be covered in dog hair from now on?
As for being obedient, that wasn't a concern.
It wasn't the first time we'd slept together. Yesterday, at the resort, it stayed at the foot of the bed, and everything was quite harmonious—no accidents, no barking.
As I rubbed its tail and thought, I finally softened. I took out a five-pound blanket from the closet and made a little bed for it, then added a soft blanket.
When it saw me making the bed, its eyes turned back to my bed. It walked over to the side and began pawing at the sheets hanging down.
"You want to sleep on the bed?" I deduced from its actions.
Fatty's tail wagged, and its mouth seemed to stretch into a smile.
Letting it into the room was already a huge concession, especially since it hadn't had a bath since I found it, and had an injury. I kept my face stern and said firmly.
"No, sleep here."
"…Wuu."
A low whine escaped from its throat, as if it felt wronged. This time, I didn't relent and shut out its attempt at weakness.
When Fatty realized I was serious, it returned to its cool demeanor and walked back to my side, supervising me as I made its bed.
The bedroom had a small bay window about 20 cm high. I initially thought about making the bed there but worried that the draft might make it cold. In the end, I moved the bed to the side of my own bed.
It seemed satisfied with this spot.
It felt like so much had happened that day. After watching Fatty settle into its new bed, I turned off the wall lamp, pulled the thick quilt over me, and went to sleep.
The next day—
I woke up at 7 a.m. It was so cold that I didn't want to move. The air outside the blanket felt like it had a bone-cutting chill that hurt my skin.
But I kept reminding myself that now I had a dog, I couldn't be lazy. I figured I'd go to the nearby morning market to buy some groceries and take Fatty for a walk.
I put on my glasses from the bedside table, and Fatty opened its eyes, almost as if it was synchronizing with me.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face, then used pet shampoo and conditioner on Fatty. After putting on a muzzle and leash, I took it out to the market.
There's a supermarket outside the complex, but dogs aren't allowed, so the nearby market was more suitable.
I jogged back and forth for about half an hour, which warmed me up.
I quickly made some soy milk, then fried eggs and meat in a hot pan, and boiled a large portion of vegetables. Two-thirds of my breakfast went to Fatty.
By the time I finished breakfast and cleaned up, it was already 8:20. I had time to take it easy before heading to work.
I grabbed my bag, which contained two large lunchboxes, and headed to the door, with Fatty following closely behind.
At its height, I didn't need to bend much to pet its head.
It seemed like it wanted to go with me, so I pointed at its nose and said, "Stop. Go back home."
"…"
"I'll bring you food at lunch."
At the company, we only had an hour and a half for lunch, which was enough time for me to grab lunch and feed Fatty.
I clocked in before 9 a.m., then began working once I reached the office. During quiet moments, I'd think about how my dog was doing at home.
Around 11, I went to the break room to make tea. Liou Mei was there too, and she asked how Fatty was doing. I shared a video of the dog with her.
"So, it's home alone at lunch. Did you leave it dog food?"
"No, I just feed it in the morning. I'll go to the canteen, get two servings of food, and eat with Fatty at home."
Liou Mei frowned. "It doesn't like dog food?"
"It's fine with it, but it prefers human food."
Liou Mei: "Are you treating it like a village dog?"
I replied seriously, "Buying vegetables is cheaper than buying premium dog food."
Liou Mei: "…"
We chatted for ten minutes, then returned to our respective work. I began wondering if I should install a camera in the living room to keep an eye on Fatty.
It felt strange at first, this sense of concern, but it didn't seem like a bad thing—it actually felt warm.
At lunchtime, I rushed to the canteen, stood in line, and twenty minutes later, returned home with two hot lunchboxes.
I opened the door to find Fatty sitting by the entrance, waiting for me. Instead of jumping all over me, it walked up calmly and nudged me gently.
Maybe it had learned from the times it knocked me down, so it had toned it down.
The midday break was short. I didn't even have time to wash the lunchboxes. After a quick rest, I went back to work.
In the evening, I got home around 5 p.m., bought some vegetables, and by 6 p.m., Fatty and I were having dinner together.
I realized that having it around actually made my life healthier than when I lived alone.
After work, I used to order takeout or just eat snacks because I didn't feel like cooking. But now, thinking about what Fatty needs to eat, I make more food, which gets me more motivated. And after eating, I also take Fatty for a walk—what a healthy and routine lifestyle.