When my one and only first noticed that my harness didn’t fit, she said it must have shrunk in the wash. There was tightness around my chest, but I could still breathe and walk. Then one day a friend of ours who likes me very much commented on my girth. “Where is Foxie’s waist?” she asked. Alas, my one and only could not locate that indentation. I applaud my one and only for deep breathing instead of yapping at her friend for finding fault.
While the joy of string cheese has faded, the smell of peanut butter spread on a bagel still energizes me. Just last week, my one and only would have shared almost half. Now, I am lucky, if a bagel edge with a lick of peanut butter lands near me no matter what manner of begging I employ.
Some might try to connect changes in my diet to my habit of scrounging the carpet for dropped food, but it is not a new habit. I am just better at it. Recently, my one and only was on the couch binge-watching “Orange is the New Black” while she nibbled on her allotment of seven chocolate covered frozen Almond Dream Bites, a vegan substitute for ice cream, when three chocolate covered Bites fell onto the carpet. I snuffled up two of them as my one and only leaped at me and tried to pry open my mouth, all the while shrieking, “Don’t do it, don’t do it.”
Did she think I would keel over from eating the thin chocolate shell on the dream bite? If the third one hasn’t melted and isn’t surrounded by ants, I will eat it when I find it. Just to say, scrounging for food is not a new practice, and no one need think I am starving because my one and only has me on a diet. Though adorable at any size, I’m still an animal.