A fat cat gave a long yawn and paced lazily out of my memory, its bulging belly quivering faintly. The cat's name is Ash, and it has smooth and shiny gray fur. Can't remember how it got to our house. In the 1960s, our family lived in a dilapidated tile-roofed house in an alley. The old and the young had shabby clothes, disheveled faces, and only a little bit of meat and fishy for a short time. The strange thing is that Ah Hui has quietly grown into a big fat cat in the folds of this day.

Ash is my grandmother's darling. Grandma often quietly squeezed out a few dishes and bought some small fish and shrimp to feed Ah Hui. Occasionally, my father showed a dissatisfied look: the people at the dinner table still couldn't eat fish and shrimp, why did another cat come to fight for food. Grandma pretends to be deaf. Ah Hui has a clear face, he never rubs his father's trousers coquettishly. This is a lazy cat who closes his eyes most of the time, or simply snores in a ball. At that time, I was still a naughty boy, trying to make fun of Ash from time to time. I inserted my arms into Ash's furry arms, trying to disturb his sleep. Under the bright feathers of a chicken or bird hides a scorching body, and one's palms may retract in fear from the unexpected temperature and the jagged skeleton; a cat's body is moderately warm, and its smooth, soft fur often creates a certain allure. Ah Hui didn't express much disgust at my harassment, he was willing to cooperate with the game. Ah Hui hugged my arm and pretended to take a bite, and sometimes kicked a few times with his hind legs. After being perfunctory, it rolled back to the other side and continued to snore, as if exhausted.

Ash is good at induction, and it quickly formed a habit. When he was full, he swam with a belly, and when he returned from wandering on the tiled roof, Ah Hui would sit by the eaves and urge his grandmother to prepare a vegetable basket. It grandly sat in the vegetable basket and looked around, as comfortable as the county magistrate sitting in the sedan chair. Grandma kept cursing and swearing fiercely that this was the last time. However, Ah Hui's summons always made her break her promise again and again. I remember that Ash went missing once. Grandma brought her rice bowl and walked around the house, while beating with chopsticks, calling out "Ah Hui, A Hui". The image of this old beggar made us blush. However, my grandmother was tougher than ever before, ignoring our dissuasion at all. A few days later, Ah Hui slipped back from somewhere, covered in smudges, and lost weight. It buried his head in the rice bowl and devoured it for a while, and his expression slowly calmed down. Grandma sat on the small chair in the kitchen, stroked the fur on Ash's back, and murmured to persuade him not to go out, not to wander around in a dangerous world full of traps. It narrowed its eyes and listened quietly, snoring slowly. Ah Hui lived for about ten years, and his grandmother gave it away. After many years, my grandmother also went to another world. Are they still there for each other?

A fat cat gave a long yawn and paced lazily out of my memory, its bulging belly quivering faintly. The cat's name is Ash, and it has smooth and shiny gray fur. Can't remember how it got to our house. In the 1960s, our family lived in a dilapidated tile-roofed house in an alley. The old and the young had shabby clothes, disheveled faces, and only a little bit of meat and fishy for a short time. The strange thing is that Ah Hui has quietly grown into a big fat cat in the folds of this day.

Ash is my grandmother's darling. Grandma often quietly squeezed out a few dishes and bought some small fish and shrimp to feed Ah Hui. Occasionally, my father showed a dissatisfied look: the people at the dinner table still couldn't eat fish and shrimp, why did another cat come to fight for food. Grandma pretends to be deaf. Ah Hui has a clear face, he never rubs his father's trousers coquettishly. This is a lazy cat who closes his eyes most of the time, or simply snores in a ball. At that time, I was still a naughty boy, trying to make fun of Ash from time to time. I inserted my arms into Ash's furry arms, trying to disturb his sleep. Under the bright feathers of a chicken or bird hides a scorching body, and one's palms may retract in fear from the unexpected temperature and the jagged skeleton; a cat's body is moderately warm, and its smooth, soft fur often creates a certain allure. Ah Hui didn't express much disgust at my harassment, he was willing to cooperate with the game. Ah Hui hugged my arm and pretended to take a bite, and sometimes kicked a few times with his hind legs. After being perfunctory, it rolled back to the other side and continued to snore, as if exhausted.

Ash is good at induction, and it quickly formed a habit. When he was full, he swam with a belly, and when he returned from wandering on the tiled roof, Ah Hui would sit by the eaves and urge his grandmother to prepare a vegetable basket. It grandly sat in the vegetable basket and looked around, as comfortable as the county magistrate sitting in the sedan chair. Grandma kept cursing and swearing fiercely that this was the last time. However, Ah Hui's summons always made her break her promise again and again. I remember that Ash went missing once. Grandma brought her rice bowl and walked around the house, while beating with chopsticks, calling out "Ah Hui, A Hui". The image of this old beggar made us blush. However, my grandmother was tougher than ever before, ignoring our dissuasion at all. A few days later, Ah Hui slipped back from somewhere, covered in smudges, and lost weight. It buried his head in the rice bowl and devoured it for a while, and his expression slowly calmed down. Grandma sat on the small chair in the kitchen, stroked the fur on Ash's back, and murmured to persuade him not to go out, not to wander around in a dangerous world full of traps. It narrowed its eyes and listened quietly, snoring slowly. Ah Hui lived for about ten years, and his grandmother gave it away. After many years, my grandmother also went to another world. Are they still there for each other?