“It’s not alive…
“Oh! I remember now!”
“It’s a stuffed animal!”
“I won it from a claw machine once. Đậu Đậu loved it so much that he had to take it everywhere—even when eating or sleeping. But a little nephew came over the other day and cried until he got it, so I gave it to him.”
“I didn’t realize Đậu Đậu was so attached to it. I’ll call them right now and ask for it back!”
With that, Đậu Đậu’s father stood up and called right away to ask for the stuffed animal back.
10.
The last person I spoke with was Tiểu Hổ’s mother.
Tiểu Hổ was a very well-behaved Poodle, usually as gentle as a little ball of fluff. But his mother showed up with dark circles under her eyes, looking as if she hadn’t slept in ages.
“Teacher, every night Tiểu Hổ comes home and barks toward the door for a whole hour. Why on earth does he do that?”
I was puzzled, too. He should have used up all his energy at kindergarten and come home ready to drop straight into bed.
When I asked Tiểu Hổ’s homeroom teacher, I found out that lately he’d been dozing off in class. That was very unusual.
I asked Tiểu Hổ’s mother:
“Could someone be outside your door?”
Tiểu Hổ’s mother replied:
“I suspected that at first, too, so I worked up the courage to open the door and look. But there was nothing outside—not even enough to turn on the motion-sensor light.”
It seemed I needed to ask Tiểu Hổ directly.
I called Tiểu Hổ, who was dozing, over and asked why he barked toward the door.
Tiểu Hổ woke right up and rattled off a long explanation.
I pieced together what he’d said and relayed it to his mother:
“There really is someone outside your door. It seems to be a thief.
“He’s very clever. Whenever he hears you open the door, he immediately hides in the stairwell.
“Tiểu Hổ is very brave. He barked all night, making the thief think he’d put you on alert, so he didn’t dare break in.”
After hearing this, Tiểu Hổ’s mother was so shocked she had to cover her mouth with her hand:
“So can I go home tonight?”
“Of course,” I reassured her, then added:
“We just need to be ready, so if he comes, he won’t be able to leave.”
11.
Tiểu Hổ’s mother immediately called the police. During their investigation, they found marks the thief had left outside her door.
Security-camera footage showed a suspicious person loitering downstairs, occasionally looking up to count the floors, apparently trying to figure out whether anyone was home.
That night, at Tiểu Hổ’s mother’s request, I stayed with her. The police hid in the stairwell, ready to catch the thief.
Time crept by until the clock struck one in the morning.
While everyone was fast asleep, Tiểu Hổ suddenly leaped up from my lap and ran to the door.
Someone’s here!
I quickly covered Tiểu Hổ’s mouth to keep him from barking and alerting the intruder.
He stood at the door for a while, apparently making sure no one was home, then took out his tools and began clanking away at the lock.
The moment the door opened, Tiểu Hổ growled, charged forward, and clamped his jaws around the man’s leg.
The thief yelped in pain, realized something was wrong, and turned to run. But the police waiting in the stairwell were ready. They quickly tackled him to the ground and handcuffed him.
Under questioning, it turned out he was a professional thief. The entire apartment building was on his list of targets. But Tiểu Hổ stopped him at the very first apartment.
“Tiểu Hổ is so brave!”
As everyone praised him, Tiểu Hổ held his head high and strutted proudly.
Then he turned around and tugged at my pant leg with his teeth:
“Teacher, am I the best dog?”
I nodded.
“Then can I have pâté tomorrow?”
You bet!
You can have two whole cans!
12.
On my way back, I saw Tang Bưu sitting outside the kindergarten gate, his eyes shining like high beams as he waited for me.
As soon as he saw me approaching, he rushed over:
“Teacher, you’re back! Tang Bưu didn’t miss you at all, you know!”
I chuckled and covered my mouth with my hand.
“I missed you, too.”
A kitten really is a kitten—it can’t hide its feelings at all.
A person and a cat walked down the road together, chatting as they went.
“But your name isn’t ‘Teacher.’”
“But everyone calls you Teacher.”
“Yeah, but that’s not my name.”
“Hmph. Tang Bưu doesn’t care what your name is.”
“My name is Lục Kỳ Kỳ.”
“Tang Bưu doesn’t want to know.”
And yet I heard him muttering very softly:
“Lục Kỳ Kỳ… Lục Kỳ Kỳ… Lục Kỳ Kỳ…”
As if he wanted to carve that name into his heart.
The next day, a strange girl came to see me.
“Excuse me, does the kindergarten take cats? I want to leave them here.”
We did take cats, but…
The girl standing in front of me was covered in bruises. In the bitter cold of December, she wore only a thin shirt. The only thing she had that looked warm enough was clutched tightly in her arms.
When she saw me fall silent, she grew anxious:
“I have money! I can pay!”
She hurriedly pulled a crumpled wad of small bills from her pocket—all tens, fives, and ones. In her haste, several bills fluttered to the ground.
The girl bowed her head and carefully picked them up one by one.
I sighed and crouched down to help her pick up the money.
Her small body trembled, and then big, round tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto the cold snow and slowly melting.
I took off my padded coat and draped it over her shoulders.
Only then did I realize that what she was clutching wasn’t a coat, but a litter of kittens.
Her sudden movements had woken the kittens, and they began crawling everywhere, full of energy.
The girl frantically tried to catch them, but none of them would stay still.
Just then, Miêu Miêu appeared from who knows where with a cardboard box and carefully placed the kittens inside, one by one.
“Principal, please take them in. They’re so pitiful!”
When I turned around, Mr. Lý and Ms. Vương had appeared behind me.
“That’s right, Principal. Take them in.”
“And the girl, too. She’s so kind, yet she’s suffering. It’s so cold—don’t let her get sick.”
I looked at the girl, the litter of kittens, and then at the companions by my side. A warmth seeped through the winter cold.
“All right, we’ll take them in.”
The tears still clinging to the girl’s face sparkled like snow.
Everyone stared wide-eyed, their eyes shining as if they were waiting for my answer.
“I never said I wouldn’t take them in. Come inside, quickly—it’s freezing!”
And so, the kindergarten gained a few new students.
13.
The kittens were absolutely adorable. Even Tang Bưu was won over by their cuteness, and suddenly became a devoted nanny, watching over them every day without taking a step away.
If I hadn’t seen the two little “beans” under its tail with my own eyes, I might have thought it was their mother.
Miêu Miêu, Mr. Lý, and Ms. Vương all stopped by dozens of times a day to check on the kittens.
But the one who weighed most heavily on my mind was that frail, sickly girl.
That day, after I took in the litter of kittens, the girl insisted on paying me.
I firmly refused, but she hugged the kittens and threatened me sternly:
“If you won’t take the money, I won’t leave the kittens with you!”
With no other choice, I accepted the small amount of money the girl offered.
Ms. Vương cooked the girl a piping-hot meal, and Miêu Miêu gave her some of her own new clothes.
I set up a small bed in the office so the girl could rest there overnight.
But the next morning, to my surprise, the girl had disappeared.
We searched everywhere around the kindergarten, but couldn’t find any sign of her.
The bruises on the girl’s body kept appearing in my mind, weighing heavily on my heart.
I was overwhelmed with regret.
“If I’d known, I would have stayed with her all night.
“I wonder if she has anywhere to go in this bitterly cold winter.”
Tang Bưu suddenly walked by and left me stunned with one remark:
“She might not make it through this winter.”
“What?!” I cried in shock.
“She smells very bitter. My younger companions who froze to death smelled like that, too.”
Panic gripped me. I hurriedly put on my coat and dashed outside. Tang Bưu ran close behind, sniffing constantly.
We searched for a long time, but couldn’t find any trace of the girl.
I slumped to the ground and couldn’t stop myself from bursting into tears:
“What do we do? What do we do, Tang Bưu?”
Tang Bưu rubbed its head against me and gently comforted me:
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”
And sure enough, it came up with a plan!
With its tiny little head, it did something extraordinary.
I saw Tang Bưu race back to the kindergarten like an arrow, calling all the stray cats together: Tiểu Cam, Tiểu Bạch, Tiểu Hắc, and even the cats in the cat room were mobilized.
When I looked up, I saw a parade of tiny figures hurrying toward me with all their might.
14.
Tang Bưu had rallied all the stray cats in the area, and they were all helping search for the girl.
It said the dogs at the school wanted to come, too, but since they didn’t know the area, it wouldn’t let them join.
As dusk approached, a calico cat found the girl.
I hurried after the calico. At last, beside a trash can, I saw the girl’s thin body lying motionless in the snow.
I immediately scooped her up and ran straight to the hospital.
Fortunately, we got her there in time, and she was no longer in life-threatening danger.
Only then did I learn her name was Xuân Lai. She was an orphan with severe depression and had even considered suicide.
Xuân Lai told me that as she lay in the snow, waiting to die, she suddenly heard the kittens’ faint cries for help.
She brushed away the snow and discovered that their mother had frozen to death some time ago, leaving only a few weak, pitiful kittens.
“How could I let them die right in front of me?” Xuân Lai said through her tears.
She struggled to her feet, gathered the kittens in her arms, and used her body heat to protect them.
“I thought, once they were safe, it wouldn’t matter if I died.”
“No.” I cut her off.
“You think they’re safe? What if I were a bad person, and after you left, I tossed them back outside to freeze to death?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“You can’t be sure. You don’t really know me, either.”
“You couldn’t do that.”
“Then you’ll have to stay here and keep an eye on me until they’re truly safe.”
Xuân Lai began to cry again. But this time, her eyes no longer held an endless sorrow.
After that, the kindergarten gained a new “little worker” named Lục Xuân Lai.
Together, we looked after the kindergarten and made it through the harsh winter.