We were doing a house cleaning for the new year. Everything was going well. I cleaned the bottom of the sofa when I heard the scream (尖叫). It was so loud that I guessed someone had broken into our home. “A mouse! A mouse!” screamed my little sister. My younger cousin screamed just as loud, and pointed.

How could it be able to enter our house? I later learned from the Internet that mice enter homes through cracks and holes found in walls, floors and foundations. Due to their body shape, mice are able to fit through holes much smaller than appear likely. They may also enter the home through gaps in windows or ceilings, as well as through sewer (下水道) lines. Anyway, it seemed that we had a trouble.

My sister and cousin jumped up on the couch as the baby mouse ran to one side of our living room and then the other. Because of the screams, the mouse was frightened and at a loss. The little rodent (啮齿动物) had obviously found a home in our house. “Get the mouse!” my little sister and younger cousin screamed.

It was so tiny and quick that I wasn’t sure what to do. I tried catching its long gray tail, but it ran away and up a dining chair. I had an idea. “Get a shoebox,” I said. But my little sister and younger cousin shook their heads at the same time. They had no intention of moving from the couch. I ran to our bedroom and came back with an empty box. Then I held a fly swatter (苍蝇拍). My plan was to stun (打昏) the little mouse and put it in the box.

I was about to hit it with the swatter when my little sister shouted out, “Don’t kill it! It’s a baby and a little cute.” My younger cousin agreed with her, and I could tell by its frightened eyes that the little mouse did, too. The tiny mouse twitched (抽搐) its mouth. It seemed to be saying, “Listen to them. I don’t want to be killed. This is my first new year!” As I saw the fear in the mouse’s eyes, I gained some compassion (怜悯).

I slowly walked toward it with a small towel.

I asked my sister and cousin if they wanted to say goodbye.

Josie and I wanted a dog more than anything else on the earth. We wished for one every time we threw coins in a fountain or watched the evening star drop behind the trees. However, our mother believed that we were still too thoughtless to take on the task of raising a pet. She had witnessed our forgetfulness on household chores and getting into small conflicts. In her eyes, these were signs that we lacked the necessary responsibility.

One summer night, as we sat together on the roof, Josie saw something. She pointed down toward a dark shadow, “What’s that?”

For one astonishing second, Josie and I stared at each other. Then we rushed down onto the doorway. There in our yard stood a black dog. Josie made a little kissing noise and held out her hand. The dog came to us slowly, taking a few steps forward, then a step back, not sure whether to trust us. She was so skinny that I could just feel every bone, and her coat was messy.

“We’re going to have a dog!” My inside was full of excitement, just like before Christmas or our birthday.

“What’s a good name?” said Josie.

The perfect name wrote itself in my mind, “Shadow!”

The next day, we piled together all the pocket money we had to buy all kinds of dog foods and hid it in various places because we were afraid Mom wouldn’t approve that if she knew we were feeding a homeless dog.

That night, after our parents were asleep, we silently slipped downstairs to feed Shadow. We carefully poured the dog food into the bowl, trying to make as little noise as possible. Shadow, who had been waiting eagerly by our side, wagged (摇晃) her tail. As we placed the bowl on the floor, a creaking (吱吱的) sound filled the house. Suddenly, the kitchen light was switched on, illuminating the room and revealing our shocked faces.

It was our mother, standing there surprisingly.

Mom decided to give us a chance to prove we could be responsible owners.

One night, sitting on the cold steps at the back of my apartment in Kansas, I’d been staring out into the darkness. The only light came from my cigarette. Rain soaked (浸湿) through my pants, but I didn’t care. Back in my room, there was a knife on the bedside table and a note on my computer screen. I hoped that whoever read it first would understand why I had the plan to end it all.

Six months before that night, a car accident caused a brain injury in me. I lost my job and had to live on my savings in my lonely apartment. Since then, I had been suffering from depression and struggling to get through each day.

I sat there on those cold steps just wanting to end it all. “Tonight. I will,” I thought as I took another drag of my cigarette.

“Meow?”

I looked up. A black and white cat with round green eyes looked back at me. He meowed again. Then, walking out from his hiding spot, he jumped at me. He was tiny and damp, but he rubbed up against my legs. When I reached down to pet him, he leaned into my touch, purring (发出呼噜声).

That was all it took. I cried. The cat just watched me. I didn’t scare him away. In fact, he stood there as if he knew how desperately I needed a companion right at that very moment.

I looked into his big green eyes and he looked back. Clearly a stray (流浪的) cat. “When was the last time you ate?” I said. My plan to end it all was put on hold, at least until I found this cat some food.

It became a routine: Every day, I’d go to the back steps with some cat food. Usually, the cat, whom I named Scout, was already waiting for me. He became more than something to live for. Over time he inspired me to get help for my depression and even gave me the confidence to get into a serious relationship with Becky in Pittsburgh, whom I had known for years.

Scout became my constant companion.

I was far from the lonely and depressed man that Scout had first approached in the rain, but I still needed to make a few more changes.