The dog was asked a question. It looked up and all around with an empty gaze, more so than usual. Behind the eyes, a void of unforgivable ignorance. It looked very tired, haggard even. Rightfully so, it was old. It was an unhealthy specimen. Overweight. Discolored. Mange on top of its head. Barely alive.
It would get very twitchy, then take pause to breathe heavily, especially through the nose, making it sound like chaotic steam. It seemed to frown more, every time it moved. Its stomach gurgled often. Speaking of often, flatulence.
It was a miserable experience watching the dog survive. Euthanasia, which properly sounds like youth in Asia, often comes to mind to those who encounter this pitiful creature. Finally, it responded to the question, “I don’t really. I think it’s a small group of people that have very, very serious problems, I guess.”