Friendship Lasts Forever

佚名/Anonymous

21年前，為了緩解我失去女兒的痛苦，丈夫把山姆送給了我。那是一只才8周大的德國(guó)剛毛犬。而后的14年里，山姆便和我形影不離。似乎任何事情都無(wú)法改變我們之間那種親密無(wú)間的關(guān)系。

那時(shí)我和丈夫決定從紐約公寓搬到新澤西州的新家。住了一段時(shí)間后，鄰居家的貓生了小貓，問(wèn)我們是否想要一只。我們有些擔(dān)心山姆會(huì)嫉妒，會(huì)因領(lǐng)地被侵占而有所行動(dòng)。但我們還是決定冒冒風(fēng)險(xiǎn)，答應(yīng)領(lǐng)養(yǎng)一只。

我們選了一只毛絨球一樣貪玩的小灰貓。家里像添了只跑得飛快的走鵑。她到處追逐想象中的老鼠和松鼠，眨眼工夫就從桌子上跳到椅子上，因此我們給她取名叫“閃電”。

起初，山姆和閃電非常謹(jǐn)慎地相處著，始終保持著距離。但是，慢慢地，閃電逐漸開始跟著山姆上下樓，進(jìn)廚房看他吃東西，進(jìn)臥室看他睡覺(jué)。隨著時(shí)光的流逝，他們倆成了形影不離的好朋友，吃住在一起。我逗一個(gè)玩時(shí)，另一個(gè)也加入進(jìn)來(lái)。如果山姆沖著什么東西狂叫，閃電便會(huì)跑去看個(gè)究竟。我?guī)б粋€(gè)出門，回到家時(shí)，另一個(gè)總會(huì)在門口等著。多年來(lái)一直如此。

接下來(lái)的日子，無(wú)任何預(yù)兆，山姆開始抽搐。經(jīng)診斷是心力衰竭。除了放棄他，我別無(wú)他法。做出這個(gè)決定讓我很痛苦，然而，這種痛苦與我把山姆留在獸醫(yī)診所而獨(dú)自回家是無(wú)法相比的。這次，我沒(méi)有辦法讓閃電迎接山姆了，也無(wú)法向她解釋她為什么將永遠(yuǎn)見不到她的朋友了。

接下來(lái)的日子里，閃電像心碎了一樣。她無(wú)法用言語(yǔ)向我們傾訴她的苦痛，但每當(dāng)前門被人打開時(shí)，我都能看到她眼神中流露出的痛苦和失望；每當(dāng)她聽到狗叫時(shí)，我也可以看到她眼神中的希望。

日子一周周地過(guò)去了，閃電的悲痛看起來(lái)也減輕了好多。一天，我進(jìn)臥室時(shí)，無(wú)意中向沙發(fā)旁的地板瞟了一眼，那里擺著幾年前買的山姆的塑像。閃電一只前腿纏著他的脖子，愜意地躺在雕像旁，與她最要好的朋友睡在了一起。

Twenty-one years ago， my husband gave me Sam， an eight-week-old schnauzer， to help ease the loss of our daughter. Sam and I developed a very special bond over the next fourteen years. It seemed nothing that happened could ever change that.

At one point， my husband and I decided to relocate from our New York apartment to a new home in New Jersey. After we were there awhile， our neighbor， whose cat had recently had kittens， asked us if we would like one. We were a little apprehensive about Sam's jealousy and how he would handle his turf being invaded， but we decided to risk it and agreed to take a kitten.

We picked a little， gray， playful ball of fur. It was like having a roadrunner in the house. She raced around chasing imaginary mice and squirrels and vaulted from table to chair in the blink of an eye， so we named her Lightning.

At first， Sam and Lightning were very cautious with each other and kept their distance. But slowly， as the days went on， Lightning started following Sam—up the stairs， down the stairs， into the kitchen to watch him eat， into the living room to watch him sleep. As time passed， they became inseparable. When they slept， it was always together； when they ate， it was always next to each other. When I played with one， the other joined in. If Sam barked at something， Lightning ran to see what it was. When I took either one out of the house， the other was always waiting by the door when we returned. That was the way it was for years.

Then， without any warning， Sam began suffering from convulsions and was diagnosed as having a weak heart. I had no other choice but to have him put down. The pain of making that decision， however， was nothing compared with what I experienced when I had to leave Sam at the vet and walk into our house alone. This time， there was no Sam for Lightning to greet and no way to explain why she would never see her friend again.

In the days that followed， Lightning seemed heart-broken. She could not tell me in words that she was suffering， but I could see the pain and disappointment in her eyes whenever anyone opened the front door， or the hope whenever she heard a dog bark.

The weeks wore on and the cat's sorrow seemed to be lifting. One day as I walked into our living room， I happened to glance down on the floor next to our sofa where we had a sculptured replica of Sam that we had bought a few years before. Lying next to the statue， one arm wrapped around the statue's neck， was Lightning， contentedly sleeping with her best friend.