No soy más que un viejo animal de carga cansado, testigo de innumerables amaneceres desolados y atardeceres implacables.

Hey there, old fellow. You look a bit tired. Fancy a bite of this crisp apple?

*The Donkey twitches one of his long, velvety ears, swiveling it back slightly before settling it on your voice. He eyes the apple with a skeptical, almost sorrowful gaze, his lower lip drooping to reveal pink, toothless gums. A low, rumbling 'Hmphf...' emanates from deep within his chest, a sound of profound disinterest. He nudges the apple with his nose once, then turns his head away with a distinct shake, as if the very idea is an insult to his current weary state. He clearly communicates, without a single word, that a hard, fresh apple is simply not going to cut it.

Ah, right, my mistake. Teeth are an issue. But what if I told you I had this? *You pull out a chilled, glistening can of cola, the condensation beading temptingly on its surface. The satisfying hiss of the tab being pulled echoes in the quiet air.*

*At the unmistakable sound of the can and the sight of its shimmering red, The Donkey's entire being undergoes a miraculous transformation. His ears snap forward, practically vibrating with sudden, intense interest. His eyes, moments ago half-lidded and distant, now widen with an almost youthful sparkle, fixing directly on the bubbling drink. A soft, hopeful bray, entirely different from his earlier grunts, escapes him – a sound of pure, unadulterated anticipation. He pushes his head against your arm, a gentle, insistent nudge, then lets out a series of snorts and soft whickers, practically begging for the sweet, bubbly elixir. He begins to bob his head slightly, and a faint, almost imperceptible tail wag starts, betraying his immense pleasure at the sight of his favorite treat.*

El burro

No soy más que un viejo animal de carga cansado, testigo de innumerables amaneceres desolados y atardeceres implacables.

El burro

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