On the fifteenth day, Little Black's Emotional Knot

“Little Black, let me through, I really mean no harm.”
Little Black remained motionless, its wary gaze fixed on me.
A low, warning growl rumbled from its throat—it was actually threatening me!
It would not allow me to come any closer.
I had thought that after these past few days, we would be able to trust each other completely.
Still, I approached, doing my best to move gently and slowly, hoping to lessen its hostility.
But I failed. The growl in its throat became more urgent, signaling it was on the verge of an outburst.
Not wanting to provoke a confrontation, I had no choice but to step back.
Seeing me retreat, Little Black turned its head and lay down again, quietly staring at the pile of objects before it.
“What should I do? How can I calm Little Black down?” My thoughts were in turmoil.
This is how it happened: for the past few days, I’d noticed that every morning when I awoke, Little Black had vanished, only to return by dusk.
At first, I thought it was out foraging, but even after I prepared food for it, the food remained untouched; still, it left every morning.
Curiosity got the better of me, and today, at dawn, I followed it.
Little Black knew I was trailing it, but ignored me, heading straight here and lying down beside that pile, simply staring.
Even as I stood right next to it, it didn’t react at all.
But when I walked toward the pile, it suddenly sprang up, leapt in front of me, and blocked my path, warning me with a low growl.
That pile was a heap of white bones, covered by a few tattered pieces of cloth, and beside it lay a filthy, battered bag.
I guessed that these remains were likely those of Little Black’s previous owner. I had no idea how he met his end, but seeing Little Black’s state, I imagined that while alive, he must have been very kind to it.
At that thought, something softest within me was touched, and tears welled in my eyes before I knew it.
Did I admire Little Black’s devotion? Was I sorrowful for the man’s death?
I didn’t know! I didn’t know if, stranded on this deserted island, I too would end up lying exposed to the wild, my body sun-bleached and rain-washed, finally turning to dust.
Yes, I didn’t know.
…
The remains had long since turned to bone; he must have died a long time ago. I truly wondered how Little Black had survived all this time.

In our culture, we believe the dead must be laid to rest in the earth, a sentiment I deeply share. So I spent a long while—perhaps one or two hours—digging a pit and searching for a long stone, about forty centimeters in length.
Yes, I wanted to make a grave for Little Black’s former master. Though I couldn’t carve his name on a gravestone, at least this symbolic gesture would offer something, wouldn’t it?
The grave wasn’t large or deep; I dug it with a small stone and my bare hands.
My fingernails throbbed with pain from the work, but I stood up and walked toward Little Black.
“Little Black,” I called softly.
It looked up at me, a trace of confusion in its eyes.
“This must have been your previous master, right? Let’s bury him, shall we?” I spoke to it as if it were human, gesturing at the pit I’d dug.
Little Black simply stared at me, unmoving.
“After we lay him to rest, you can come visit him whenever you want,” I said.
With that, I tried once more to approach the bones.
Surprisingly, Little Black didn’t move or growl; it just watched me walk forward.
Maybe it understood my intentions.
I pulled over the tattered cloth and gently wrapped the bones within.
Suddenly, Little Black stood up and rushed toward me.
It stopped just a few centimeters away, paws planted, and let out a sharp, piercing cry—a cry of such utter misery that my spirits plummeted.
Quickly, I finished wrapping the bones, leaving nothing behind. It was strange; I’d always been terrified of such things before, let alone handling them myself.
Carefully, I placed the bundle in the pit I’d dug. Little Black stayed close by, watching my every move.
Handful by handful, I covered the remains with earth, the stone set upright at the head.
Looking at the finished grave, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
Little Black ignored me, lying beside the mound, unmoving.
I didn’t linger; something had been drawing me over, and now, at last, I could go.
The bag—it was a backpack, still bearing a red cross emblem.
Though filthy and old, the backpack was intact.

Heart pounding with excitement, I crouched down and opened it.
The first thing I saw filled me with delight—a Swiss Army knife, still as good as new. For me now, it was a godsend, infinitely useful.
Carefully, I put the knife back in the bag and searched further.
Sadly, there was nothing else inside but the knife.
I’d imagined there might be many things I could use.
But reality poured cold water over that hope. “Ah,” I sighed.
The day passed quickly; the sun was already dipping westward. I saw Little Black rise and look at me.
I thought it too must fear the night, so every evening it always returned to my shelter.
On the way back, it walked ahead, I followed behind—neither of us speaking, each lost in our own thoughts.
To be honest, so many days had gone by without any sign of rescue. The sea was always empty. All this time, I hadn’t seen a single passing ship—not one.
I’d given up hope of being rescued.
Perhaps the SOS I’d laid out on the mountaintop had been washed away by the rain; I had no interest in laying it out again.
So be it—there was no point in futile gestures anymore.
Little Black’s favorite food was coconut crab, so that’s what we’d been eating for dinner these days.
Tonight’s coconut crab was a full meter long—the biggest I’d ever seen. It had practically delivered itself to us, crawling onto my roof last night.
Its meat was fragrant, unbelievably delicious. Little Black could devour a whole one by itself.
Watching it wolf down its meal, I felt content, as if I’d always enjoyed roasting crab.
Tomorrow, perhaps I could finally get on with some things. Lying on my “bed,” I turned over in my hands the only thing Little Black’s former master had left behind—the Swiss Army knife.
I wondered if Little Black would go back there tomorrow.
I truly hoped it would recover soon.
…