Dam!

Behind Ba Doi Market lies a small, winding, sparsely populated road. A few wild fruit trees grow here, and mounds of earth, rocks, and weeds rise after each flood. Naturally, it's a place where motorbike taxi drivers stop to rest after the market closes. Sometimes, this deserted road also becomes a shelter for stray dogs.

At Ba Doi market, if you ask about old man Nhot selling mats, people will always mention, "Mr. Nhot raised Dam, a lame dog who is surprisingly clever!" Mr. Nhot found Dam behind Ba Doi market when it was only a few days old, still blind. Apparently, one day, because sales were slow, he was carrying his mats around to see if anyone wanted to buy them. When he reached the garbage dump behind the market, he heard a creature crying out pitifully, its weak cries touching anyone who heard them. So he rummaged through the garbage and found a weak little puppy.

Mr. Nhót brought Dậm home to raise him from that day on. For more than fifteen years, Dậm was loved and cared for by Mr. Nhót's side. As for Dậm, it seemed to understand its own situation, and the person who had rescued and raised it, so it became unusually intelligent. Every day it followed Mr. Nhót to the village market to sell mats. Every step he took, Dậm followed. At noon, Mr. Nhót would lie down on a wooden platform behind the market, dozing off, with his load of mats nearby. While he slept, Dậm would sit and watch, refusing to lie down no matter what he told it to, instead sitting up and watching people pass by. If anyone stopped to buy a mat, Dậm would approach and nudge him to sit up so they could sell it. After the customer took the mat and left, Dậm would follow them for a short distance, its tail curled up and wagging as if thanking him. Thus, more and more people wanted to buy mats from Mr. Nhót, out of compassion for him and for Dậm.

Winter. The banyan tree at the market entrance was shedding its leaves, leaving only a few tender young leaves at the top, and a few discreet seasonal breezes swept through the small market. People had noticed that Mr. Nhot had been going to the market alone for over a week, without his dog, Dam, following him around. Everyone felt sorry for him, hearing that Dam had stopped eating and been lying in one place for several days, and that Mr. Nhot went to the market alone and returned home to him after noon.

As soon as he arrived at the entrance to his alley in the afternoon, Mr. Nhot had a premonition that something was wrong. Dam's nest was still lying on the empty porch, and the bowl of rice from morning was still untouched, not a single bite eaten. He ran around looking for her. He went down to the ferry landing, into the inner hamlet, to the village market… He asked everyone he met. Everyone shook their heads. He waded into the cotton fields, out to the mulberry grove, to the cornfield behind the house… Acquaintances in the market also helped him search every nook and cranny, but Dam was nowhere to be seen.

Dam was obedient and wouldn't easily leave home without asking her grandfather's permission. Moreover, she was ill and had difficulty eating and moving around. Every morning before going to the market, her grandfather would set aside a bowl of rice for her, and if there were two pieces of braised fish left in the pot, he would give one to her. Dam's eyesight was failing, and the fur on her back was sparse. She was old. Her tail hung straight down, unable to wag even when she was happy.

He knew that one day Dậm would leave, just like other loved ones in his life who had been taken away by fate. But the way Dậm had left home without a word of farewell made Mr. Nhót's shoulders slump like a bird with broken wings. After days of searching in vain, Mr. Nhót returned and sat by the doorway, one leg crossed, the other propped up, staring blankly out, his gaze vague and unfocused, no one could guess what he was looking at.

As the setting sun faded, casting a dark border along the edges of the leaves in the garden, a thought suddenly flashed through his increasingly muddled mind: Dogs always love their owners; knowing their time to leave this world is near, they often seek a place far away, out of sight of their owner, to depart quietly so that their owner doesn't have to witness the painful moment of parting.

That's quite possible! Your dog, Dam!

Mr. Nhót hurriedly stood up, pulled his hat over his head, and walked back towards the end of the riverbank. Beside a dense clump of acacia trees, a moss-covered brown rock lay blocking the corner of the path leading down to the riverbank. A gut feeling told him to, so he crouched down and strained his eyes to look into the clump. Amidst the dense, bulging grass, Dậm lay curled up. He fell silent.

Dậm's eyes widened as if trying to see him one last time. He trembled as he touched Dậm's chest; it was still warm, as if she had only just left home, left the place where she had lived for more than fifteen years. He knelt down and hugged Dậm tightly in his dry arms, trying to suppress his sobs, but they still escaped.

Since coming to live with him, Dậm and he have shared both hunger and plenty, yet it has grown up healthy and chubby. It grew by drinking river water and eating leaves from the garden. It became a family member and a close friend to him for a significant part of his life.

Wrapping Dậm in his coat, he slowly made his way back, laying her down on the mat spread on the porch—the same mat where she had sat with him for so many years during meals and twilight evenings, gazing out at the dock waiting for him.

Still sitting motionless, not even bothering to roll a cigarette, showing no craving for anything in the world, he looked at Dam, who was dozing off as if asleep. "If only you and I could go back to our youth. But time, no one can fight against it..." he whispered, stroking Dam's forehead.

The hens digging in the backyard seemed to sense something, clucking and gathering around Dam, who was strutting around, looking around. Normally, Dam would growl and chase away the chickens if they dared to venture into the ash-filled hearth, but in the garden, they were friends. Dam rolled around in the sand, chasing mice, rummaging through worm and cricket burrows, while the hens scurried around, seemingly delighted. Their noise filled the garden. Now, Dam lay still, legs folded, gentle and peaceful, its eyes half-closed as if trying to take one last look around the garden. Goodbye chickens, goodbye pile of earth, goodbye straw, goodbye worm and cricket burrows… As if sensing something, the chickens circled around Dam as it slowly closed its eyes, their clucking sounding strangely mournful.

Wrapping Dậm in a mat, he tremblingly laid it down on the ground. He murmured, "Dậm! Sleep! I'm old and tired too. Soon I'll return to the earth, but for now, I'll stay here! Dậm... Sleep!"

Night. He stayed awake all night. In the small house at the end of the village, the familiar cooing sound was gone; Dam had taken it away. Dam was gone, leaving another void in his life.

At dawn, Mr. Nhot slung his woven basket over his shoulder and went out to the gate. Late in the afternoon, he returned with a bush of jasmine flowers in full bloom, their white blossoms covering the ground. He planted the jasmine bush in the patch behind his house, where Dam lay. In the night, the jasmine scent wafted through the air, and he sat there, imagining Dam still before him, her posture exactly the same as those evenings when she waited for him to return. He remembered Dam's intelligence and loyalty during their more than fifteen years of companionship, adding to his memories of love and affection in his life.

"Dam ơi!..."

Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/dam-oi--a187512.html