Yesterday one of the pets kept by my parents died. At least, I am told so.
He was a Shih Tzu, and after that name, my mother began to call him "Shi-chan." It sounds like a nickname, but it is his real name.
He had been suffering from cancer for about five years. It was this cancer that eventually made him unable to eat anything a week ago. With intravenous drips, he survived for a week. And he is no more.
If I could, all I would ask him is whether he was happy to be our family. He used to dread being left alone. So much so that he began to tremble when he saw us getting ready to go out. I don't know what made him so anxious. But the sight of him shivering, looking at me with pleading eyes, was sufficient to doubt his confidence in us. Failure to confide in the master seems to be a world of misfortune to a dog. Was he happy? I don't know. Not even whether a dog can be happy.