Chapter Thirty-Five: The Purpose of Raising a Dog

Song Jiawei had certainly done nothing deserving of outrage toward Xie Julie. The two of them had merely overlooked something: unconsciously, they walked slower and drew closer together, taking a path that was not leading to Xie Julie’s home.

In fact, as soon as they entered the villa district, they had gotten out of the car early and wandered aimlessly around the area.

Last night, the topic that dominated Song Jiawei and Xie Julie’s conversation was, above all, matters concerning Big Tiger; little else was discussed. Yet even so, Song Jiawei could not help but grin foolishly at his phone, unable to articulate the reason for his delight.

Much like now, Xie Julie couldn’t quite say why she was circling the neighborhood with Song Jiawei instead of going home. She simply felt reluctant to return, wanting to chat with someone—and Song Jiawei was the perfect companion.

She only knew that talking with Song Jiawei felt effortless, with nothing particularly special. He never spun thrilling tales to intrigue her, only spoke of his daily life and trivial work matters.

Ordinary as water.

Even so, Xie Julie listened attentively, sometimes recalling incidents from her own life inspired by Song Jiawei’s stories, which she would then share with him.

Their conversation rarely intersected, nor did they find any common ground; they each spoke of their own lives. Yet these exchanges brought Song Jiawei a sense of peace and relaxation. He believed his calm owed entirely to the invigorating effects of the classic Chinese remedy, Fengyoujing. But he overlooked the fact that Fengyoujing had long since evaporated well before they arrived at Xie’s home.

What Xie had overlooked, however, was brought to his attention by Zhang Congwen, leaving him in a cold sweat. He had subconsciously believed that as long as Big Tiger wore a chain and muzzle, and as long as he held the chain, the dog would pose no danger to others.

But in truth, harm need not always come from biting. Even with a muzzle, Big Tiger was not necessarily incapable of biting someone.

“I’ll go online and buy a shorter chain for him as soon as we get back,” Xie promised.

“It’s not just about the chain. When walking a dog as big as Big Tiger, you must stay alert at all times, ready for him to bolt suddenly and drag you down,” Zhang Congwen cautioned.

The purpose of training a dog is not simply for its own sake, but to ensure the safety of both humans and animals. Just as the goal of animal protection has never been to protect animals for their own sake, but to safeguard the biological resources we possess.

“Is there anywhere around here with fewer people?” Zhang Congwen asked.

“There is,” Xie replied at once, and with Big Tiger in tow, led Zhang Congwen to a field.

Xie’s home was near the city’s outskirts, so there was plenty of undeveloped, quiet open land.

With fewer external stimuli, Big Tiger visibly relaxed, his steps lightened, his wariness diminished, and he began sniffing around, exploring his environment.

Soon enough, Big Tiger selected a prime spot and relieved himself, releasing his own stress. Afterwards, he even scraped at the earth with his paws, as if he were a tidy, polite dog.

Zhang Congwen remarked, “This is actually a sign of a dominant personality, as if he’s saying, ‘I’ve been here.’”

Xie suddenly asked, “How long will it take to train Big Tiger like this?”

Zhang Congwen thought for a moment and offered a conservative estimate: “If you keep at it, at least a year. Over time, you should notice his aggression diminishing, gradually becoming part of your family.”

Xie was taken aback, clearly not expecting it to take so long, but said, “Let’s just treat it as a year’s vacation.”

It seemed that although Xie felt the time was lengthy, he did not object—in fact, he rather enjoyed it.

Many people initially delight in walking their dogs; Zhang Congwen once relished it himself. When he was a student back in his hometown, he loved taking his dog out for walks, especially at dusk.

In the fields, he would sit wherever he pleased, his dog beside him, the same height as himself. That bucolic feeling defied description.

Later, he grew up, moved to the city, and his environment changed. The feeling of walking a dog shifted from an idyllic pastime to something akin to going to work—this is why Zhang Congwen has not kept a dog since.

He doesn’t dislike city life, but can’t claim to love it either. What he truly yearns for is rural life: tending his own land, raising animals, living carefree.

But coming from the countryside, Zhang Congwen knows rural life is not quite as idyllic as portrayed in books; it holds its own set of troubles, different from those of the city.

“Thank you so much. Since I brought Big Tiger home, I’ve never felt so relaxed walking him. Before, every outing was nerve-wracking, afraid something might go wrong,” Xie laughed.

Zhang Congwen responded with polite words, then added, “Big Tiger’s case is special. To avoid outside stimuli, you should take him out during quiet hours, and come to places like this. Of course, this means missing out on the fun of chatting with other dog owners.”

Xie laughed heartily, saying that as long as Big Tiger doesn’t trouble others, anything else could be endured.

Zhang Congwen fully understood. Some keep dogs for companionship, some simply for the love of dogs, and some for social interaction. In the end, as long as the dog meets its owner’s needs, it is a good dog.

On the way home, Xie carefully followed Zhang Congwen’s advice, choosing secluded roads with few people and cars.

Upon returning, the dog cage had been built, and Xie Julie and Song Jiawei were already back at the villa. Inside, the two unwittingly widened the distance between them, acting as if nothing had happened.

Sometimes, Zhang Congwen felt Song Jiawei was a bit much. Doing business with Xie for profit was understandable, but trying to win over his daughter while earning his money seemed a bit out of line. In any case, Zhang Congwen knew he himself could never do such a thing.

After marveling at Song Jiawei’s thick skin, Zhang Congwen inspected the newly built dog cage, offered some suggestions for improvement, and had the workers make adjustments. Throughout this process, Big Tiger, though still a little nervous and keeping a close eye on the workers, neither barked nor tried to lunge at them.

The first to notice this was Xie Caizhe, who acted without thinking.

Prompted by Xie Caizhe’s observation, the others took notice, and were amazed. Though Big Tiger remained wary of strangers, he was now worlds apart from the ferocious, irritable dog they had first encountered.

“Why don’t you two stay for dinner?” With dusk approaching, Xie extended an invitation to Zhang Congwen and Song Jiawei.