Thelma Dudley could barely hear her dinner bowl being filled with the dry dog food she had been used to for years. She slowly got on all fours and began slowly walking to her bowl. Amy, the human twelve year old, scratched a spot behind Thelma Dudley’s ears as she briskly walked past her.
“Thelma Dudley you’re getting fat!” Amy squealed.
“I should bite her,” thought Thelma, but she was hungry and soon forgot the girl’s comment.
She chewed slowly on the hard, round morsels that were supposed to provide her with energy and nutritious value. It hurt her teeth to chew on the hard morsels, and she would have done much better with a softer food.
“What’s the matter girl?” Bob, the father of the humans inquired enthusiastically, “not hungry today?”
Thelma slowly lifted her head and looked at him. The skin and fur hung loosely around her face, as it did the rest of her body and made her appear even older than she felt. There was no need for her to respond. She was tired again. She slowly walked back to her big pillow in the family room. The pillow was like her—old, warn, and faded, and she found her spot perfectly in the middle. The joints in her legs popped and cracked as she lowered herself onto the pillow and drifted off to sleep.
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