We quietly watched the fireworks outside the window, each burst flaring to life and then fading away, again and again.
They were a farewell to the past, and a welcome to the future.
The dogs and cats snuggled against my legs, so warm they made me sleepy.
I glanced at the clock. Half an hour remained until the new year.
I yawned, my eyes burning as sleep slowly crept over me.
A little while later, Yuuko, the white-and-black-spotted kitten, whispered:
“Does everyone have a New Year’s wish?”
They fell silent for a long time, as if making sure I was fast asleep.
I tried to keep my breathing even, pretending to sleep.
Then Ao Ao, the beagle, spoke softly:
“I want to go without pain.”
I remembered that Ao Ao had once been an abandoned lab dog. His internal organs had deteriorated, and no medicine could save him.
The other little ones here weren’t much better off.
Some had metastatic cancer, some had bodies that were breaking down, and some suffered from severe bone and joint disease…
Nothing could be done to turn things around anymore.
One of them sighed:
“That’s hard. Death is painful in itself.”
“But living hurts, too. Every breath feels like it’s draining the life out of me.”
“It’s so exhausting. Sometimes I even hope I’ll die soon, so I won’t have to suffer anymore.”
There was no joy in their voices, but neither was there any great sadness.
It was as if they were talking about the weather—whether it would rain today or be sunny tomorrow.
My spirits sank.
My hands went limp.
I was a veterinarian, and yet I could do nothing against the relentless approach of death.
They fell silent again.
Tears dampened my lashes as I slowly opened my eyes.
The clock hands had just met.
A new day. A new year.
And for them, one day and one year less.
I tried to steady myself and keep my voice from trembling:
“Do you… really want to go without pain?”
The only answer was the booming of fireworks on the distant horizon.
I don’t know how long passed before the final firework went dark and the night fell silent again.
They began to answer:
“Yes.”
“Having Adoptive Mom by our side in our final days is enough to make us happy.”
“We don’t want to suffer when we die, because we’ve already had the happiest time of our lives.”
My vision blurred with tears, which spilled down my cheeks.
Yuuko clumsily climbed onto my lap and silently licked away a tear:
“Adoptive Mom, don’t cry. We’re not afraid of dying.”
They weren’t afraid, but I was.
I kept thinking that as long as they hadn’t felt enough of the world’s warmth, they wouldn’t have to leave yet.
I’d broken my promise. I still hadn’t found them a home.
I was helpless, unable to help them live without pain.
The others leaned against my legs, gently rubbing against them:
“Adoptive Mom, no one can give us more warmth than you can.”
“We’ll just go ahead and scout out heaven, then wait for you there.”
“Death will be our second reunion.”
I buried my face in my knees, unable to look at their frail bodies struggling to comfort me.
I was torn inside.
Should I tell them about what people called “a peaceful death”—euthanasia?
—
Animal euthanasia has to meet certain criteria.
For example, an incurable illness, or pain so severe that it seriously affects quality of life.
They… all met the criteria.
In the end, I told them about it.
“Euthanasia means giving you an injection to put you into a deep sleep.
“Then another injection will stop your heart while you’re asleep, without any pain.”
Their eyes lit up.
Just as I’d expected, they wanted to choose this way.
They even eagerly discussed which day to go, what to do beforehand, and whether they should go together…
“Let’s do it in spring. I love the feeling of everything coming to life. It’s like when they bury me, I could bloom into a flower.”
“I want to die in spring, too. Before I go, I want to bask in the sun all morning.”
“Before I go, I want to eat as much as I want, without having to watch what I eat.”
“Hey, don’t go eating anything weird. I don’t want you to smell bad when you’re cremated.”
…
“Then it’s settled. Let’s pick a nice, sunny day to go.”
They were so excited, you’d think they weren’t discussing leaving this world but planning a spring picnic.
“Adoptive Mom, what do you think?”
I managed to force a smile, though it may have looked worse than crying.
I reached out and patted each of their heads. “All right. I’ll respect your decision.”
Yuuko, the black-and-white kitten, nuzzled into my arms and made another request:
“Mom, could you put a little fish on my urn?”
Ao Ao, the beagle, set one paw on my foot and said seriously:
“Mine should be covered in dog bones!”
…
I wrote down each of their wishes, preparing a farewell ceremony with the theme “A Happy Goodbye.”
I don’t know when the sky began to grow light.
The first sun of the new year still hid behind the clouds, casting a muted glow.
I still hadn’t seen this year’s dawn.
After talking all night, the cats and dogs had drifted off to sleep.
But I didn’t dare close my eyes.
Every so often, I reached out to check their breathing.
An intangible unease clung to me, refusing to fade.
Sure enough, life is never perfect; regret is simply a normal part of it.
They didn’t make it to the sun-drenched spring. One by one, they left in the cold winds of early spring.
They went suddenly.
When their illnesses flared, they suffered terribly, yet their faces wore peaceful smiles.
Before I helped them on their way, they lingered to breathe in the scent on my hands, as if they wanted to etch it deep into their souls.
Goodbye, my last little strays.
In your next life, make sure you have a home of your own.
—
A home for every stray cat and dog.
I made that crazy idea a reality.
But now, on my way home, I felt a little empty.
Without the cheerful chorus of meows and barks, the seven-minute walk home suddenly felt long and dull.
I trudged along, stepping on my own shadow, my heart empty.
One step, then another, then another…
As I forced myself to get used to this loneliness, a pair of cat ears suddenly appeared on my shadow.
I jumped and stopped dead.
The ears twitched, as if deliberately teasing me.
Then a cat’s tail sprouted from my shadow, sticking straight up in the air.
Yuuko’s familiar voice sounded beside me:
“Sorry, Adoptive Mom, but your shadow’s too crowded for all of us to fit.”
Right after that, a jumble of voices rang out:
Some were familiar, others were strangers.
Countless cat and dog shapes emerged one after another from my shadow.
“So this is your adoptive mom? She doesn’t look all that imposing.”
“You dummy! Our adoptive mom is so cool when she picks up a knife!”
“Adoptive Mom, do you remember me? You used to hold me when I was little! Then you went home to your house, while I went to hang out in the underworld.”
…
I was stunned.
When I was little, I really did love cuddling cats and teasing dogs, but wasn’t this a bit too many?
I wanted to ask what on earth was going on.
But they kept chattering so loudly that I couldn’t make out the important part.
Just then, a familiar cat-shaped shadow stepped forward, looking every bit the imposing leader.
The crowd of dark shadows fell silent at once.
Little Cat shook his head helplessly:
“You’ve all crossed the Gates of Hell, and you’re still acting like such rookies?”
“Didn’t we make it clear? Only one of you gets to show up each time to meet Adoptive Mom after work!”
“You’re all acting so recklessly, making me look bad in front of the Underworld God!”
It turned out that the souls of cats and dogs with deep-seated wishes didn’t reincarnate right away. They stayed in the underworld, quietly waiting for the person they loved most.
Little Cat… No, Dao Ba the Wanderer really was one seasoned cat.
He’d found a way for the souls of cats and dogs to appear as shadows and stay by my side while I was still living in this world.
Before I could press him for more answers, he gave me a mysterious smile and vanished.
He was always putting on a tough-guy act. I wondered how his birth mother put up with him.
A bubbly voice sounded beside me:
“Adoptive Mom, long time no see!”
“Now you’re the one commanding the underworld cat-and-dog army. I bow to you, bow, bow, bow!”
Thinking of that lively, noisy crowd of cat and dog shadows, I burst out laughing.
Oh no. I really had joined the “underworld” now.
From then on, beneath the streetlights, my shadow always had a little tail.
The tail swayed gently with every step, dispelling all my loneliness and fear.
— The End.