I just entered middle school in front of me and got the first place. I took it from a friend's house and had a hard time getting it home.
She is yellow and striped like a tiger, but she is naturally very docile. At that time, she was only two months old. She was as happy as other kittens, but she was always bullied by others. When my friend gave it to me, he said, "You are a happy cat. Take this. You see how poor she is, afraid that she will die soon. "
I can't even imagine how happy I was. When I was sitting in the car, she was put in a cloth bag and put on my lap. Oh, she's a living little animal. She crawls on my leg from time to time. I patted her gently, but she didn't scream or make any noise. She just lay there quietly, like a very rational thing.
I still remember it was summer, and her fur made me sweat, so I put up with it. When I got home, I let her out. The new world frightened her even more. She hid in the corner or behind a chair and sang plaintively. She doesn't eat or drink water, so I almost sent her back for it. But after two or three days, everything will be fine.
Everyone in the family likes her except a cruel woman. My sister loves her more, and she takes care of every meal.
When she reached maturity, she became more silent and gentle. She never scratched anyone or stole a fish from the kitchen. She squatted on the windowsill with joy, narrowed her eyes and meditated like a philosopher. At that time, the sun was shining on her, and she had to wipe her face peacefully over and over again with her front paws. The family will say, "Brother Lian's cat is so honest!" "
However, her descendants have various personalities. More than half of them are given to relatives and friends, and those who stay at home can also see the virtuous and the unscrupulous. Some actually fight with their mothers, just like prodigals or sluts.
She lived alone for a long time. Several times, she felt that she couldn't live, but she could barely survive. Finally, a pair of ears withered somehow. Her steps are more dull, and sometimes the whining is too weak to be heard.
She lived for more than ten years, and when her grandmother died, she was already in the grave and still stayed at home. She lay dead under the coffin. I thought she died at night, because she was stiff when she found it in the morning.
When I lived in X city, I lived in a yard with my friend Mr. B. The city was old and quiet, with trees everywhere, quiet and claustrophobic. Because we are two single men, our residence is just like that city. Autumn is like this, so is spring. The walls are pink and gray, and they look bleak every afternoon.
But a cat jumped out of nowhere. She found it when we came back one night. We turned on the light and she was sitting on the sofa. When she saw light and people, she didn't know where to slip away.
At the same time, we were all moved by her beautiful color. Her body has various colors and is covered with long velvet. We looked for it and found it under the bookshelf. She looked at us suspiciously, and we immediately ordered the servant to prepare liver and rice for her. We deliberately didn't go to see her, so she ate quietly.
Since then, in our family, she is also one.
I kept it for more than two months, and one morning, I didn't know where I had escaped. She still went out of the damper pane (because of her, we never had a complete piece of paper pasted on it) and didn't come back at lunch. We thought about the rest of the day and dinner, but she never came back.
At that time, although there was a kitten missing, my place seemed spacious and lonely. When she was here, those abandoned corners were full of her running and jumping; She caught all the documents that we forgot for us interestingly. For a while, she will run on the shelf of the lamp, and for a while, she will jump on the bookcase.
However, she pulled a pot of winter jasmine on the flowerpot rack to the ground and broke the flowerpot. Remember that I really thought she was a living creature, reprimanded her and hit her gently; She winced as if she fully understood her mistake.
What interests her most at ordinary times is the nap in the drawer. As long as it was open, she walked in peacefully, so she deliberately closed it for her. Pull it later, she may not be awake yet! Sometimes I wake up, lie quietly, look at the outside world, stand up, bow my back and stretch slowly.
She will jump on the table. If it is night, she will divide the light of the desk lamp and walk back and forth. Her shadow is swaying, but it fills my small world and makes me feel hot.
Suddenly, she was attracted by a small object. She used to poke her paw lightly and looked at the rotating object in surprise, so she shrank back and squatted there, still shrinking in small steps-finally, she jumped forward with a jerk, and the object fell to the ground, and she jumped up with it.
We sometimes tease her with a velvet rope and watch her jump lightly and gracefully. I often think of the phrase "pick flowers and gamble lightly"
Her escape seems to have been thought of a long time ago. Isn't it because she looked out of the window and saw other cats jumping up and down on the wall that she started to run out? I don't know where I come from, so I don't know where I'm going. It's just that there are fewer creatures running and jumping suddenly, and my place feels more empty.
Thinking that such emotions may not last long, maybe they will be forgotten in a few days. Just before the spring breeze blew the paper on the doors and windows, I naturally looked at the pane where she had been in and out, thinking that she had come back from the outside. "It doesn't matter if you leave, but you are just a villain!"
Thinking like this, our hearts seem to be very safe and happy.
After four months, Mr. B left, and that house was left to me alone. If it's always cold and cheerless, I may get used to it; It's an increasingly empty house that can't keep me safe. But there is only one way for me, and that is patience. Since you can't be interested in everyone's position, is there any other way besides sitting on the side wall?
One day, I happened to meet an old woman and a four-or five-year-old girl in the cat and dog section of the market. She asked me if I wanted to buy a cat. I want to stop and have a look. She put down the bamboo basket in her hand and untied a piece of cloth covering it. She saw a white cat with yellow and black spots lying there.
I saw two newborn kittens under her. One is black, but the tip of the hair is white, and the other is white with gray spots on its head. She told me that she had to sell it because she wanted to leave here. She asked me a very reasonable price, and I agreed. After paying the money, I went to buy a bamboo basket.
When I put the cat in the basket, the child began to cry loudly. She can't get along with her children. She left the money that the old woman put in her hand. Although the old woman loves her children dearly, it seems that money is really useful to her, so she coaxed me and urged me to leave quickly.
I called a car, put a bamboo basket on it and went back. What is left is the crying of the child.
Indeed, as the old woman said, they are in heaven. The two kittens didn't open their eyes for the first few days, and they meowed from morning till night. I fed them rotten rice and rotten milk, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that two eyes with gray spots were different; One is yellow and the other is blue.
Three cats, big and small, are enough for me (not only myself, but also servants). The big one often runs out, and the little one keeps barking. They often haunt my feet, and they are accidentally stepped on or kicked over. They run sideways, because there are rice grains on their feet, and they run like iron feet.
They sat happily on the threshold and looked out. When they saw the dog passing by in the backyard, they purred, their hair stood on end and jumped into the room quickly. For them, they dare not lift their feet every night when they come back. I just walked around and turned on the light. I saw them snuggling up in their chairs and sleeping soundly.
Gradually, they can climb on me and on my shoulders. They seem to be in danger, singing and asking me to hold them down again with my hands.
These two kittens have attracted the love of many friends. A passing friend left the city and asked in a letter. She said that she would take the two cats away one day. But for the loneliness of sick mothers, I brought them to xx.
I gave their mother to others first, forgetting what poor little animals they would be without their mother. They shouted. Without a moment of peace, even food can't lead them to settle down.
They looked around and then turned to me in disappointment. It seems to tell me that they have lost their mother, and they want me to tell them: where is their mother? It's been like this for two days, and I want that big cat back. Later, my friend told me that it was my mother who called for a few days and finally arrived at the room. I don't know where she went.
Because I want to take the train, I put them in a bamboo basket the day before I left. They kept barking and kept me awake all night. I thought it would be a problem. According to the road rules, cats or dogs are not allowed.
In the morning, I fed them and put them in a bamboo basket. They stopped screaming. I have brought them back to my mother safely.
At that time, my mother was very ill, but she still managed to make fun of me. She likes those two cats. They jumped in front of her at once. I am very afraid to see my tears when I see my mother. This time, these two little things separated my mother's sadness.
Soon, they became a burden. They may meow when their mother is asleep. When mother is ill, they may have to climb on her. In this case, I can only give them to the servant, who will take them to his room to raise them.
My mother's illness made me forget everything. It was a long time before I asked my servant if the two cats were still alive. The servant told me that they were still alive, and their hind legs were frozen lame because of a moment's negligence. But gradually getting better, growing up, but not as clean as before.
I just replied and didn't let him bring them to me, because they were loved by my mother before her death and have become the seeds of my own sadness.
Extended data:
Jin Yi and Ba Jin co-edited Literature Quarterly in Beiping from 65438 to 0930, and Harvest in Shanghai after the founding of the People's Republic of China. They are not only good partners in their careers, but also have forged a profound friendship.
Jin Yi's Cats and Ba Jin's Zhaoen Ge the Puppy both express their nostalgia for their dead relatives through the description and memory of small animals, which can be called lyrical modern classics. However, the sharp contrast between literature and meaning implies that the two old friends have different understandings of life and literature.
Cat (1936) was written by Jin Yi shortly after his mother died. At the beginning, it points out the close relationship between cats and their own lives: "cats seem to occupy a large part of their lives, although they don't bother me anymore." One of the experiences of owning a cat was conveyed in a garrulous tone under a gloomy emotional background:
When I lived in XX, I lived in a yard with my friend B Jun. That city is old and quiet, with trees everywhere, quiet and leisurely. Because we are two single men, our residence is just like that city. Autumn is like this, so is spring. The walls are pink and gray, and they look bleak every afternoon. But a cat jumped out of nowhere. We found it when we came back one night.
The adoption of this cat has added infinite interest to the life of "me" and my friends. Look at this vivid description.
Jin Yi and Ba Jin co-edited Literature Quarterly in Beiping from 65438 to 0930, and Harvest in Shanghai after the founding of the People's Republic of China. They are not only good partners in their careers, but also have forged a profound friendship.
Jin Yi's Cats and Ba Jin's Zhaoen Ge the Puppy both express their nostalgia for their dead relatives through the description and memory of small animals, which can be called lyrical modern classics. However, the sharp contrast between literature and meaning implies that the two old friends have different understandings of life and literature.
Cat (1936) was written by Jin Yi shortly after his mother died. At the beginning, it points out the close relationship between cats and their own lives: "cats seem to occupy a large part of their lives, although they don't bother me anymore." One of the experiences of raising cats was conveyed in a garrulous style under a gloomy emotional background.
Isn't a kitten without maternal love a portrayal of her sadness? There are no more cats. It is also afraid of seeing things and thinking about people. In this article, the vivid and interesting description of the cat, the deep memory of my mother, and my sad and lonely mood are exquisitely and organically woven together.
All the events seem random, but in fact they are very innovative and interesting. Invisibly, the matter of cats is closely related to human feelings, and cats have become an indispensable part of the author's life, and they have been placed in infinite reverie.
Jin Yi (1909~ 1959), formerly known as Zhang, was born in Tianjin and was a famous modern writer. I studied in Nankai Middle School in Tianjin as a teenager and graduated from the Department of International Trade of Fudan University in Shanghai. In 1930s, he wrote many novels reflecting the life of ordinary citizens and intellectuals, describing the life and love of young men and women.
I studied in Nankai Middle School in Tianjin as a teenager and graduated from the Department of International Trade of Fudan University in Shanghai. In 1930s, he wrote many novels reflecting the life of ordinary citizens and intellectuals, describing the life and love of young men and women. In the 1940s, I witnessed the Kuomintang sabotaging the Anti-Japanese War, with changes in thoughts and feelings and revolutionary tendencies in his works.
After the founding of New China, he enthusiastically participated in cultural construction and various political activities. He used to be a deputy to the National People's Congress, director of the Chinese Writers Association, secretary of the Secretariat, and vice chairman of the Shanghai Branch of the Writers Association. 1959 died of a heart attack at the age of 50. He has more than 30 works in his life.
In the 1940s, I witnessed the Kuomintang sabotaging the Anti-Japanese War, with changes in thoughts and feelings and revolutionary tendencies in his works. After the founding of New China, he enthusiastically participated in cultural construction and various political activities. He used to be a deputy to the National People's Congress, director of the Chinese Writers Association, secretary of the Secretariat, and vice chairman of the Shanghai Branch of the Writers Association. 1959 died of a heart attack at the age of 50. He has more than 30 works in his life.
1932 graduated from the Department of International Trade of Fudan University. During his stay in War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression, he was a professor at Fudan University in Chongqing, and also the editor of Wenqun, a supplement to the National Gazette. 1940 edited Modern Literature and Art in Yong 'an and Li Liewen. He also teaches in Fujian Normal University. 1944 Back to Fudan University in Chongqing. After the victory, he moved back to Shanghai with the school, served as the director of China Literature Department, and co-edited China Writer with Ye Shengtao and others.
From 65438 to 0933, he co-edited Literature Quarterly with Zheng Zhenduo and Moon Hee Monthly with Ba Jin. 1July, 959, Jin Yi, who has been "following the Party", joined the Producer Party of China. After the founding of the People's Republic of China, he served as provost and professor of Hujiang University, professor of Fudan University, editor-in-chief of Harvest, secretary of the Secretariat of Chinese Writers Association, first and second directors of Chinese Writers Association, and vice chairman of Shanghai Branch. He is a deputy to the Second National People's Congress.
His published works include Cats and Short Stories, Fog and Others, Flowers of Blood and Fire, Eucharist, Beads of Buddha, Riptide, Eve, Jiangshan Wan Li, Essays, Happy Days and Enthusiastic Hymns.
The 20th anniversary of Jin Yi's death (from the first edition of Ba Jin's Essays in May 2006)
Time seems to fly. It has been 20 years since Jin Yi died. But I always feel that he is still alive.
I first met him in Shanghai in 193 1 year. He was still studying at Fudan University and published our short stories in the same issue of Novel Monthly. /kloc-at the end of 0/933, we started working together in Beiping Literature Quarterly (he was editing Literature Quarterly, and I just helped to read the manuscript and give some ideas).
From then on, we were either in the same city or far away from Qian Shan, and we never lost touch. I still feel that we are working together. He writes articles and compiles publications: I also write articles and compile books.
He sent me a manuscript and I contributed to his publication. We encourage each other and care about each other. 1In the second half of 938, he went to Chongqing and began to teach at Fudan University.
He entered the education field, but he never gave up his literary and artistic work. Over the past twenty years, he has edited more than ten kinds of large periodicals and literary supplements, written the novel Eve and more than thirty collections of short stories and essays, and trained many excellent Chinese teachers and young literary and art workers for New China.
Many successful middle-aged writers have published their first novels with unique styles in his publications, and all of them have received his help to some extent. In those years, I have been observing the path he has taken in his life and creation. I saw those deep footprints. He really strode forward.
Starting from the joys and sorrows of personal love, he found his own happiness in the joy of the people and the liberation of the motherland. The author of Green Flower finally found the producer. His spirit is getting more and more full, and his mood is getting more and more enthusiastic. Everywhere came his loud voice full of vitality and confidence: "Run, run faster and farther, and I will follow you. None of us can fall behind. "
Twenty years have passed. His voice is still so loud, full of vitality and confidence. I closed my eyes, and his happy smiling face was in front of me. "How about it?" It seems that he is asking questions again. "Write it." I answered without thinking. In other words, his voice, his smile and his language are still encouraging me.
Jin Yi was just over fifty when he died. Someone said, "He died too early." I think it would be great if he lived for another 30 years. We often feel sorry.
Later, during the Cultural Revolution, several other old writers and I often talked about him in the bullpen, but we said, "Fortunately, Jin Yi died early, otherwise it would have been unbearable." Every time I return to the "bullpen" after being humiliated, I will definitely think of Jin Yi.
"Even if 1959 does not die, it will be tortured to death." I sometimes think so. However, he "born to die", the grave was dug. Fortunately, the ashes were kept in Longhua Revolutionary Cemetery … ...