My sister named her dog "Zhu Pi" before she even started searching for the perfect dog to match the name. Similarly, I named mine "Mabu" first and unexpectedly ended up with a cat that looked exactly like a rag cloth. My sister traveled to various dog shelters around the country until she finally found a "brindle French Bulldog" that captured her heart. Truly, only this dog deserved the adorable name "Zhu Pi." The moment I went online and met Zhu Pi, the dog seemed to naturally carry a joyful spirit wherever it went. The way Zhu Pi responded always brought a smile or even a chuckle to one's lips.
My sister told me that Zhu Pi never ate dry dog food as a puppy, so the family had to prepare fresh meals. Chicken, rice, and stir-fried vegetables were Zhu Pi's favorites, which kept him strong and healthy. However, near the end of last year, Zhu Pi suddenly could only stand and was unable to lay down to sleep. Feeling something was wrong, my sister took him to the vet, where they discovered fluid in his lungs. Oddly, tests showed his heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver were all functioning normally. Even when Zhu Pi later stopped eating and had to be fed through a tube, he still made contented sounds while eating, so none of us expected his life was already counting down.
After a few days, Zhu Pi's inability to lie down returned, accompanied by some wheezing. My sister decided to bring him to the vet again. But while they were waiting for a taxi, Zhu Pi suddenly went limp in her arms and passed away. My sister was utterly stunned and heartbroken.
"Zhu Pi, was it because I didn't notice or care well enough? I'm so sorry," she said, apologizing while communicating with him.
But Zhu Pi responded with a calmness that was both innocent and bravely cool:
"Actually, sister, you cared for me way too well. When the time came, Death couldn't help but just assign me some illness to make it official. I only remember feeling dazed in the end, like I was dreaming. Death tossed me a rope to play tug-of-war with. I lost, so Death took me away. If only I had won, or just refused to grab the rope."
"Sister, this game was between Death and me, it's nothing to do with you. You already did everything you could at the time. Now, take back those words of apology!"
Zhu Pi's reply was filled with a charmingly manly humor. Actually, my sister had lost our mother just two years ago, and now she had lost her beloved Zhu Pi. She deeply wanted to know where they were now — had they met each other?
At that moment, Zhu Pi sent a vision: a picturesque countryside farm somewhere abroad with chimneys puffing smoke, chickens, geese, and even an orangutan running past. This beautiful natural scene was Zhu Pi's heaven.
"But mom's heaven is different from mine. Mom came to see me sitting on a lotus flower. We met at the border of our two heavens, and because my name is so unique, mom recognized me immediately," Zhu Pi explained.
Zhu Pi also conveyed a message from mom:
"Mom wants me to tell you, sister, that we've only gone backstage on the same stage to rest. Normally, we're apart, each studying spiritual lessons in our own heavens, working hard to prepare for the next scene."
"Mom asks you, still on the front stage, to continue carrying the lead role alone. When mom and I have rested enough, it will be our turn to perform again — and we will meet again!"
"Sister, mom also said that both she and I are proud of your bravery, even though it made you suffer twice in such a short time."
"We are the ones who love you the most, and we never expected to become the ones testing you. We are really sorry. This is fate's arrangement that none of us can change, but we all miss you deeply. Do you understand, my child?"
The last sentence suddenly made my sister freeze for a moment, as if something felt off or confusing. Then Zhu Pi showed its playful side:
"I'm just copying mom's way of speaking, hahaha!"
Although it was a touching and sad communication about his passing, Zhu Pi had a magical way of keeping both my sister and me laughing all the way through.
I asked my sister if Zhu Pi could come back in any form, what would she want. She didn't put limits on it. I asked Zhu Pi the same question. He said:
"I want to become like sister, who can hold chopsticks and eat exactly the same flavors as her."
"But if there's only one spot for someone who can hold chopsticks, I'd give it to mom. I can swap souls with mom, and I'll just stand in line to become a little cutie."
"But I don't think I can copy and paste to become another Zhu Pi exactly. I'll try to be the kind that makes you happy."
After saying this, Zhu Pi gave me another vision — a British Shorthair cat with a ridiculous face stretching sideways, thick eyebrows, and a mole or spot that made it look like a matchmaker. I thought I'd seen this in a comedy video icon before but couldn't quite find it to describe to my sister. She immediately replied, "Just look for funny faces like that!" Zhu Pi's comedic spirit clearly came from my sister; even when facing heartbreak, the humor never faded.
My sister has temporarily placed Zhu Pi's ashes in the living room near the balcony, arranged quietly and serenely. The urn has a portrait that looks strikingly like Zhu Pi. She's still unsure if she should turn it into a potted plant on the balcony — not sure what Zhu Pi would prefer. Zhu Pi, however, doesn't think in terms of better or worse but is curious about what kind of tree or flower he'd become if turned into a plant. My sister hasn't figured that out yet.
"If sunshine pours in through the balcony, sister, will your mood brighten, too? Summers get so hot, make sure to give Zhu Pi some shade," Zhu Pi said, truly like a heat-sensitive French Bulldog who still wants to be unique.
"Sister, you've already got so many pots, wouldn't mine become just one among many? Ah... but the spot it's in now seems pretty good too."
"Don't ask me, you decide. I don't want to bother my brain," Zhu Pi joked.
My sister laughed back, "I'm just asking because I don't know how to choose—I kinda want to punch you, kid."
Zhu Pi replied:
"Your feelings are probably more important anyway, since this is the spot you'll keep to remember me. Anyway, whatever warm, cozy way you set it up will be just how I like it."
"Pick the place where it's easiest for you to talk to me—whether laughing or crying."
Zhu Pi wanted a place where my sister could comfortably express her emotions without embarrassment.
"It turns out my Zhu Pi was a little warm-hearted man!" my sister told me after our talk, saying that the regrets she once had vanished, and all the memories that came back were of Zhu Pi's mischievous looks and spirit.
