(Gerilqimug Black Crane).
I saw it for the first time when I went skiing at the alpine training base.
In the past, I used to ski at the ski resorts in the city or go snow skiing in the wilderness. When winter came, on the lake in the square behind my neighborhood, a ski resort with only a few tens of meters long for beginner skiers was built.
Before the ski resort was built, I often went there with my own snowboards, and my clothes were always frozen by the snow sprayed by the snow guns, as if I was wearing armor. A staff member who makes snow here told me about the nice ski resort, and I really didn't find any information about that ski resort on the Internet. It belongs to the Institute of Physical Education, which is the second campus of the Institute of Physical Education, and as a training base for alpine skiing, it is not commercially advertised and operated, so not many people know about it.
After two train changes and then a car, I was thrilled to finally see the snow field between the mountains, and to see the steep slopes that cascaded down from the top of the mountain for nearly two kilometers.
I thought to myself as soon as I got on my skis and jumped down from there.
I took my backpack and bag out of the rented van, looked up, felt the sunlight reflected in the snow too harsh, and put on the snow goggles that had been stuck on my head.
That's when I saw it, and it was coming towards me from an orange field of vision.
I couldn't see clearly and took off the snow goggles.
It was a silver-gray dog that ran out of the ski hall and rushed straight at me.
It was indeed aimed at me, there was no one next to me, it was coming at me.
I wasn't afraid, and no dog would use such a prelude to an attack.
I'm familiar with this kind of scene, and every time I come back from a long away, that's how my two dogs greet me. When I appear in their field of vision, they rush at them in desperation, inspired by a righteous passion, and they come running wildly, with the gesture of knocking down all obstacles that dare to stand in their way. They leaped high on me, pounced on me, kissed me, took my hand in their teeth, and did their best to control their exuberant enthusiasm so that they wouldn't bite me. Their tails spin like *** propellers, and a long-lost passion burns them, and they must release this passion.
Sometimes, this special greeting lasts for a long time, and when it's all over, they're always gasping for breath and drooling like they've just finished a 10km run, and of course, more saliva has been left on my clothes and face.
This dog came to me with such a passion to welcome his long-lost owner.
I was a little overwhelmed, and obviously, judging by how it behaved, I was supposed to be its owner, and we've been separated for a long time. But no matter how I recall, I don't remember having such a dog. Even though it was fast, I could tell it was a silver-gray wolfhound. I've had no less than 10 dogs, but I remember exactly where they went, and even if some of them didn't know what to do, it wasn't this breed. However, I had raised a milky white wolf dog in the meadow as a child, and at dusk I didn't know where to go, not to mention the difference in their coat color - of course, it is not excluded that the coat color may change with age - it is impossible for it to come from the distant meadow to this snowy mountain. Even if it was alive, it would probably be almost 20 years old now, and I have never seen a 20-year-old dog, and I don't know what the concept of a dog is, but it is about 200 years old. My friend had a 14-year-old dog, and at the end of his life, he was so deaf and dizzy that he couldn't walk in a straight line, and in the end the owner took him out to bask in the sun. Well, a 20-year-old dog will not run like this anyway.
It's already coming, whether I want it or not, and it's obviously going to give vent to the enthusiasm it had when we were reunited after a long absence.
In order to prevent the bags and backpacks in my hands from getting in the way, I threw them on the snow - not to underestimate the power of a dog to pounce, I tripped over the backpack and fell to the ground more than once when my dog pounced. When dogs display great enthusiasm, they possess terrifying powers.
I don't care if it's the dog I lost a long time ago, and now I can only bear this kind of enthusiasm. I raised both hands to my chest so that I could reach over it when it rushed over, soothe it, and prevent it from jumping too high with too much adrenaline and claws scratching my face. My dog, Aya, loves to pounce like this. In the summer, I was scratched by it more than once.
The dog's paws whistled with the fresh snow that had just fallen yesterday, attracting the attention of visitors in the parking lot who were moving skis down from their cars. I also seemed to be infected by this emotion, and I was even a little excited. That's the case with dogs, and that enthusiasm of theirs always produces a human pleasure.
I don't know how to describe the transformation, but just as it was running in front of me, ready to pounce on me, it suddenly stopped stiffly and stared at me. Then, the enthusiasm and excitement seemed to be exposed to the low temperature of minus 50 in an instant, and it froze in an instant, and finally fell to the ground like broken glass. At this time, it is dominated by great disappointment, as big as the whole world.
It's the last thing I want to see a gaze from another species, and I wish I never saw it if I could. Every time I'm going out skiing or going on a long trip, I can see it in the eyes of my two dogs, and the disappointment hangs over them, and for a moment, you feel like they've lost interest in the world.
It was already convinced that it had never seen me in this world, and a coldness that it was clearly Xi to filled its eyes like a fog. It gave me a cold look, then slowly dodged to the side, making way for me to the ski hall.