This time, the owner gave me very few questions. Usually, when I encounter such situations, I tend to decline politely because if the passed pet is also someone of few words, wouldn't it be a pity that the communication between us is so limited? I confirmed multiple times with the owner whether she wanted to add more questions or if I should write a letter to her beloved dog. She replied that her emotions were a bit confused and she was afraid that adding more questions would make her child more attached and unable to let go.
In the end, why did I still accept the request? Because during the interaction with the owner, I faintly felt that this dog wanted to talk to her sister. It wasn't clairvoyance, just an intuition. But I didn't expect this dog to be so "bold", able to talk nonstop on its own. No wonder the owner said, "Our 'young master' is not like a typical red poodle that loves to bark. He is a dog that expresses his opinions very well in his own way. When we were choosing a daycare for him, he would 'sigh' to show he didn't like it; when he saw me eating, he would burp to hint that he also wanted some."
Because he was so strong-willed, the owner often scolded him out of concern. Even though he had a minor stroke and his legs could no longer stand, he stubbornly tried to get up on his own. During the Hungry Ghost Festival, while the family was busy worshipping, he fell and broke his lower jaw, which became the final straw that broke his health.
The owner said she cared for him carefully, hoping he could live out his full life. She never expected such an accident, and now faced the painful decision of life and death for him. A lower jaw fracture might not be a big problem for a young dog, but "Young Master" was old and unable to eat, so he likely wouldn't last long. Coupled with abnormal brain discharges, the vet suggested that letting go now would be better for him.
Recently, the dog couldn't fall asleep at night because of these abnormal brain discharges. The owner had to wake in the middle of the night to hold and comfort him. After the fall, his crying would get louder. The owner deeply understood his suffering and hoped "Young Master" could forgive the difficult choice to let him rest early.
Right after he came online, "Young Master" sent me a vision of himself riding on a floating cloud. "Sister, I have so much to say to you. At the hospital, my device suddenly shut down—I didn't get to say goodbye." I first expressed the owner's apologies, but he was actually bringing good news. The emotional gap made the owner laugh and say, "He's as cheeky as ever."
At first, "Young Master" was still a bit sentimental:
"Sister, I understand, but I wasn't mentally prepared."
"I heard you ask the vet how to make me feel better. Although I didn't quite understand this means I would leave soon, at least I know your intention is for my good."
"Maybe living a very long time is a naive wish. After all, I'm already old and will only get worse, not better. It's hard for everyone."
Then he started showering love:
"Sister, I'm willing to keep struggling for you, but the happier I am is knowing you let go, because I can finally meet my little lover, my cutie again. I really missed my baby."
"It must be fate. Heaven knows I miss my wife, and gave me the chance to see her sooner."
At first, the owner wasn't sure who his wife was. "Young Master" continued:
"I've seen my beloved! So happy!"
The owner said, "This sounds so familiar," and remembered that their mother often described another dog in the family as "Young Master's wife". Now she understood.
Eighteen years ago, the owner first adopted the abandoned "Young Master". Two years later, they adopted the "little sister", a dog that looked like a Pomeranian but was actually a Chihuahua. Perhaps due to shared experiences, when "little sister" misbehaved, the family would pretend to be stern with her, and "Young Master" would always protect her.
The owner said when "little sister" passed away seven years ago, the atmosphere in the home was like national mourning. Even "Young Master" was deeply affected, losing his appetite for three months, dropping weight drastically, requiring medical attention, and only returning to normal after half a year.
Seven years later, the family faced their worst grief again. "Little sister" left suddenly, within 30 seconds of getting off the bed, without much suffering. But "Young Master's" situation was a helpless choice, which left the owner so sad she lost sleep for several nights. She wonders if they are all at peace now.
"Sister, you have fulfilled my wish to come see my baby," he said.
"She's been waiting here for me all these years. Honestly, seeing her is more important than anything to me, so I accepted leaving early quickly."
"Sister, you're the unfortunate one now, without us to keep you company at night."
"When you think of your two most beloved babies reunited on the moon, would you still feel sad or reluctant?"
"Whenever you look up at the moon, remember to smile and send us your blessings!"
I quickly reminded the owner that the very day we communicated was Mid-Autumn Festival — a perfect time to look up and gaze at the moon.
