The meaning of life

 　　We used to have a dog and a cow. The dog was very obedient and knew how to please me, which I loved dearly. I often took it with me when I went out, and I never gave it leftovers; I always cooked special meals for it. The cow, on the other hand, was very dull. I kept it in its pen all day, and I was too lazy to look after it. When I needed to do something, I would take it out to work, and it was quite obedient and worked very hard, doing a good job, which I was very satisfied with. However, I didn't really like it. I only fed it a little bit each day, sometimes letting it go hungry, sometimes feeding it well, and it didn't make a fuss. My beloved dog, on the other hand, was different. If it wasn't given good food, it would bark incessantly, and sometimes it would refuse to eat if the food wasn't good.

　　One day, the dog was wandering around the yard when it accidentally wandered into the cow pen and saw the old cow. The dog raised its head, looked at the old cow with disdain, and barked, "What's the point of you living? You might as well be dead." The old ox, without anger, calmly said: "My life has its meaning, and it has meaning for my master too. But for you, my life has no meaning. You, however, don't know what meaning your life has, what meaning it has for your master, but you have no meaning for me either." The dog, enraged by this, roared: "You're a prisoner! What reason do you have for me? You might as well be dead! What face do you have to cling to life?" The old ox didn't respond and turned away.

　　Not long after, I went out, taking the dog with me. On the way, its leg was run over by a cart and broken. From then on, the dog never stood up again. I left it in the cattle pen, still feeding it every day. For the first few days, it refused to eat because the food was bad, but I didn't bother with it. Eventually, it settled down. Later, relatives came to visit and asked about the dog. I told them its leg was broken and it had been left in the cattle pen. They went to check on it and came back telling me to kill it, saying the dog was completely useless and wouldn't be worth much money. They suggested I kill it and eat it myself. I hesitated for a moment, but finally agreed.

　　On the day the dog was slaughtered, many relatives came. I didn't go to watch; several relatives helped with the slaughter. I heard from the relatives that before the dog died, it said something to the cow: "Actually, you're not stupid; you've always been smarter than me." I didn't say anything after hearing this. During the meal, the relatives praised the dog meat as delicious, and I actually thought so too.

　　Three years later, the old cow died. Before it died, it called me over and said, "I gave you my whole life, and I should give it back to you. But I have one request after I die: bury my horns in the field I frequent." Later, the old cow asked me if I remembered the dog from three years ago. I said I didn't remember, and in fact, I really didn't. I agreed to the old cow's request, but I didn't just bury the horns in that field; I buried the whole cow.