My dog hasn’t been eating.
She is old, and not eating is a bad sign.
Last night I was cooking some chicken, and I gave her a bite.
She gobbled it down, so I gave her some more.
And some more.
She ate it all, and then she ate her bowl of kibble.
I think she’s playing me.
She’s faking that frail, old-lady act so I’ll prepare a fresh, home-cooked meal for her every day.
I guess I would do the same thing if I were in her place.
I’m taking notes so that I can follow her example in my own old age.
Wrigley is my muse.