Eight months have passed since my white cat left this world. When I suddenly think of it, little bits of it appear in front of my eyes. It lived in my home for four years, four years it carried out the responsibility of catching mice, like a strong soldier. For four years, he was as naughty as a child. In the end, it ate poisoned mice and left my house, which I can’t get over for a long time.
When she brought the cat, she put it in a white knit bag. She emptied it from the bag and we saw a white cat, not too big or too small. White as snow, bright yellow eyes shining, looking straight at us, and meowing.
I found him in the field outside my house. Ah, my white cat. He lay dazed on the ground. Did you eat dead mice?’ I thought, but I dared not come near him. His pain was frightening. I had to get a tattered coat to put on it. Everyone says that cats and dogs have seven lives, my cat will not die, wait a while, I pray so.
In this way, my white cat and I farewell, I personally buried it, all the way, my white cat, I cried for a long time.