Since he came to this home, I have been superfluous.
In the past, Mum really liked to take me for a saunter on the lawn twice a day; now, she assigned this mission to Dad and said: "Baby can't leave me…"
"Baby" used to be my name.
My name is "Sunny," but they preferred calling me "Baby."
When I sat on her knee and looked up at her, she touched my ears, pinched my nose, and said: "Baby."
When the morning sunlight shone into the room, I got off the covers, stuck out my tongue, and licked his face; he opened his eyes and said: "Baby".
I was only a few months old at that time; I always had two names, so as I heard either one of my names, I would dash to them with a beam and a shine of spittle.
Slobbering is a bad habit, but I couldn't change myself.
After I was 1 year old, I understood that "Sunny" means resplendence and glowing sun. They wanted me to be healthy and vivacious, but baby was a more intimate name, so I liked it better.
Now, they gave this name to him; my name was despoiled without any hesitation.
Just because he is fatter than me? Cuter than me?
My fur was so gorgeous while he looked like a naked pig; My nose was high and steep while his nose was so small. Undoubtedly, if let this fellow go outside alone, he would lose his way.
He also liked to poop on the floor; well, at first, I did the same thing, but after a week, habits were cultivated. In terms of self-discipline, I was better than him. Besides, he was a coward. Dad and Mum used to take him to the park; a crow suddenly skimmed overhead, and he was scared to the point of slobbering, and two hands held Mum's neck tightly.
Coward! I laughed sardonically with my slobber.
I was much braver than him. Last year, Dad had an argument with a guy; I stood out and barked at his powerful leg. People around us said: "This is a brave little baby."
Everyone agreed that I was eligible to be named "baby".
 
I had lots of privileges; for instance, I wouldn't be punished if I broke a plate; I wouldn't be reproached if I smudged the sofa; I slept in the middle of that big bed, occupied the best position.
But now, everything changed. When I was two, he suddenly came into the family like a bone falling from the sky. This bone ruthlessly snatched their love; I was depressed, but meanwhile, I examined myself in retrospect.
Was it was because I did something wrong and annoyed them?
Was it was because I wasn't tidy?
Was it was because I couldn't control my own slobber? I have say it is decided by genes!
Was it was because I was too greedy? I loved meat; if they didn't feed me meat, I would stay under the bed without eating or drinking.
 
So, I decided to change myself; I would use my new personality to win their heart.
I do quit bad habits.
I never piddled again without meat; I pretended I enjoyed the meal a lot. I never casually got on the sofa again; it used to be my territory, and I spent most of my time on it. Now, I just pretended not to see it, and it became tidy again.
The most significant change I made was that I now spontaneously console people.
In the past, whenever dad and mum argued with each other, I always hid away. Now, I would go towards them, nestled beside them, very mellow.
The world is cruel; you make an effort, you may not have any outcome. I had been striving for two months, but nothing changed.
He was still occupied wholly by "baby"; they still cast all their enthusiastic eyes upon him instead of me. He totally monopolised their love that used to belong to me.
I sobered secretly at the corner that day. As a "man, " I tried to control my sentiment so they didn't know I cried. Only Dad discovered that the corners of my eyes were wet. He said: "Sunny has been lying on his stomach lately. Maybe he's sick."
You are sick! You guys are all sick! I exclaimed in my heart, wanting to bite his ass so much.
Violence wasn't my first choice, but that didn't mean my world was totally non-violent.
That day, my dad was taking me outside, and a sheepdog came at me with a fierce look in his eyes, like a drunk. Fortunately, I ran quickly, although I was good at running. The guy ran faster, and I was about to catch up. I was so anxious that I jumped down the steps, and as a result, I broke my leg and couldn't get up.
Dad picked me up and gossiped to the hospital; his breath was rash. I didn't scream. I tilted my head and put it in his face.
One of my forelegs was broken; it was now with a splint. It was a white splint, like the snow I saw for the first time in my life.
At that night, two more sausages were added to my dinner. Dad also gave me a few tablets and said: "This is a calcium tablet, Sunny; you must take it in."
In addition to fixing the injured leg, I had to go to the hospital every day for injections and dressing changes. Sometimes, when he got off work late, my mother took me there. She even left the coward who was always with her and let him sleep alone.
There was no doubt that now in my mother's heart, I ranked first again.
I would nervously stare at the doctor's hand every time I got an injection. The shiny needle was scarier than the sheepdog biting me. Mom stroked my head and said, "Honey, it doesn't hurt."
Look, "Baby" is mine again.
Although the injection was painful, I was strong and tried not to make a sound. I'm gonna prove I'm braver than a coward. I looked into my mother's eyes, filled with the light of maternal love. At this time, my saliva flowed down again. I didn't know whether it was saliva or tears.
Mom, I love you.
 
My dad was a writer; he wrote a poem, and one of the sentences in his poem was:
Love is a sweep of a windstorm
And a slimy wick in heavy wind
This sentence was elusive to me, but I understand it now.
I never understood it, but now I do.
Their love for me is the fickle weather: hot today, cold tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow is a fog.
When I take off the splint I can walk and run again. The storm of love has again been given to the guy who always likes to sleep, and I am redundant again.
Mom and Dad won't even let me stay on the bed anymore. My spot, they gave it to that coward.
In the dark corner, like a stone, I spend the long night alone.
I have a pair of sensitive ears and can hear almost everything in the house, including the ticking of a clock, the rumbling of a tap, the sound of a window opening, and even a mouse coming out of a hole in the wall late at night, a spider eating a mosquito.
But now I just want to cover my ears. I don't want to hear all the sweet nothings they say to that coward in bed.
The name "Sunny" is a mockery, my life is very dark now, there is no sunshine. Eating, drinking, short walks (more of a formality), my life was a backwater.
I remember seeing a movie about a strong St. Bernard dog that was captured by a dog dealer and enslaved by humans in the freezing snow of Alaska. It is unwilling to yield, break free, and eventually become the strong of nature and the master of its own destiny.
Oh, yeah, Call of the Wild.
I am not as strong as it, but I am just as wild and have the call of my own heart. Belong to my love, I must get, for it, I do not hesitate to bleed.
That evening, my father took me for a walk as usual, only looking down at the phone, he did not even know where I ran. I was back on the familiar steps.
The steps were high, and I was afraid, and my wounded leg began to shake.
If you want to be loved, be brave enough to be hurt. I told myself that I was a brave "baby" that no one could match.
I love you, Dad! I love you, Mom!
I jumped.