Chapter Sixty-One: Ill?

Sister Wang’s tone was as unlikable as ever. Yet this time, no one voiced any objections; everyone listened quietly as she said, “You could walk it while riding an electric scooter.”

“That’s right!” Sun Zhong clapped his hands together.

“I was just about to suggest that myself,” Song Jiawei chimed in.

Sister Wang shot Song Jiawei a disdainful glance, feeling she was merely copying her.

Everyone turned to Zhang Congwen.

In truth, walking a dog with an electric scooter might seem efficient, but it harbored many hidden dangers. After all, a dog wouldn’t necessarily follow your chosen path. If, on a whim, it suddenly veered off, an accident could easily occur. Moreover, there was still a leash between the scooter and the dog; if any obstacle were to snag the leash between them, the consequences would be easy to imagine. Besides, if the dog suddenly became exhausted and the scooter couldn’t stop in time, it might end up dragging the dog along.

Furthermore, since the leash wouldn’t be in one’s hand, controlling the dog would be much weaker when walking it by scooter, increasing the likelihood of other mishaps.

So Zhang Congwen shook his head, indicating he didn’t recommend it.

After voicing his concerns, everyone fell silent.

At last, Song Jiawei slapped her thigh and said, “What if we add some weights to it? With weights on, it couldn’t run fast, and it’d be much easier to overtake it, wouldn’t it?”

Zhang Congwen rolled his eyes. When it came to unscrupulous ideas, few could rival Song Jiawei. Even the inhumane notion of putting a dog through weighted training had occurred to her.

“No,” Zhang Congwen said.

Subjecting a dog to weighted training might easily injure it. Besides, Muddy Snow’s body type was like that of a corgi—by nature, its spinal structure wasn’t great to begin with. Adding weights would be downright cruel.

After much thought, Sun Zimu and his mother, Meng Rou, finally turned their gaze toward Sun Zhong.

“Why are you looking at me?” Sun Zhong had a bad feeling.

“I think you really need some exercise. Look at your belly,” Meng Rou remarked.

Sun Zimu echoed, pretending to be earnest, “Dad, you really should work out. Your figure is out of shape.”

Realizing the matter had ultimately landed on him and that there was no escape, Sun Zhong rapped Sun Zimu on the head and said, “Look at you—short and skinny. It’s obvious you lack exercise. From now on, when I walk the dog, you’re coming with me.”

“I…” Sun Zimu felt utterly wretched.

If only he’d kept his distance and not meddled in this mess. He was about to cry from frustration.

Zhang Congwen chuckled quietly on the side for a while, then said, “If possible, it would be best to keep Muddy Snow completely separated from Little Yellow and Big White. That way, Little Yellow and Big White would be less harassed.”

“Well…” Sun Zhong hesitated.

The first suggestion was manageable; though running after Muddy Snow would be tough, it wasn’t impossible. But keeping the three dogs apart would be difficult. Living in a city apartment without a yard, it was hard to create such conditions.

Knowing this would be hard, Zhang Congwen added, “I’m only saying this would be ideal, not that it’s absolutely necessary.”

Suddenly Sun Zimu said, “How about keeping Muddy Snow on the balcony most of the time? Just draw the curtains, and that would separate Muddy Snow from the other two, wouldn’t it?”

Though Sun Zimu’s suggestion wasn’t perfect, Zhang Congwen finally said, “It’s worth a try.”

Sun Zimu immediately grew smug. “See how clever I am? So do I still have to go walk the dog with you?”

“No!” Sun Zhong replied firmly.

Sun Zimu’s face fell.

After all the necessary matters were addressed, Zhang Congwen went to check if Muddy Snow had eaten the dog food in her bowl.

Opening the door, he found that Muddy Snow had truly inherited the corgi’s famously stubborn temperament; she was like a mule, guarding her food bowl like a precious treasure and refusing to take a bite.

Seeing that it was getting late and realizing he couldn’t keep wasting time with this little mule, Zhang Congwen said, “Perhaps I should go check on Sister Wang’s dog first. When I’m done there, I’ll come back up.”

“Great!” Sun Zhong immediately agreed.

Being in the same room as Sister Wang made him uncomfortable, even if no one was speaking. He’d long wanted to usher her out, but out of politeness and for lack of a good excuse, he hadn’t done so. Now that Zhang Congwen had suggested going to Sister Wang’s apartment, Sun Zhong was more than pleased.

When Sister Wang opened her door, she was taken aback. She hadn’t been gone long and had even come back a few times, so the apartment had been just fine. But in such a short time, the place was a mess.

The slippers that had been neatly by the door—one was now on the sofa, the other nowhere to be found. The one on the sofa even bore several small teeth marks.

The box of tissues that had sat on the coffee table was now scattered across the living room. Other items from the coffee table were strewn everywhere.

Even the sofa cushions had been tossed onto the floor.

For a moment, Sister Wang thought a thief had broken in. But a thief wouldn’t have left things in such a state—the only explanation was that her own dog had turned the place upside down.

Zhang Congwen was also momentarily stunned upon entering. His sense of smell had always been keen, and as soon as he stepped in, he caught a faint, unpleasant odor.

It was a musky, sour scent—not like fresh urine, but more reminiscent of something aged and stale.

“What’s that smell?” Song Jiawei, standing nearby, wrinkled her nose and whispered. She too had caught a whiff, but when she tried to focus on it, it had already faded away.

“What smell?” Sister Wang asked, puzzled, sniffing the air.

Song Jiawei sniffed again, but the scent was gone. “I smelled something just now, but it’s gone. It reminded me of a sewer odor.”

Sister Wang sniffed but detected nothing. She shot Song Jiawei a curious look, then, a bit embarrassed, said to Zhang Congwen, “It must be our dog’s doing.”

She quickly added, “It’s never been like this before; I don’t know what’s gotten into it this time. Usually, our dog’s very well-behaved.”

She was worried Zhang Congwen would report what he’d seen to Sun Zimu’s family, damaging her reputation.

Zhang Congwen nodded in understanding. “Many dog owners’ homes are like this.”

Seeing that he didn’t press the matter, Sister Wang hurried to invite Zhang Congwen and Song Jiawei in, offering them seats on the sofa before she started tidying up.

Once seated, Zhang Congwen found that strange odor growing stronger and more frequent. It still came and went, just as before—sometimes detectable, sometimes not.

“I never really noticed until today, but I realize now how much our dog loves to bark. Imagine how much that must disturb the neighbors. I really feel bad about it,” Sister Wang said as she picked up the scattered items.

In truth, she didn’t feel guilty at all—she was only saying this to sound considerate if word got out.

“It’s probably not a major issue. I suspect it’s separation anxiety,” Zhang Congwen said.

Sister Wang was startled. “Are you saying my Bebe is sick?”