She was
once plump and spirited,
Full of promise, meant to be the companion
Of rugged boys and wistful girls.
Watcher of babies, keeper of secrets,
Guardian by day, comforter by night,
Sneaking onto the sofa when no one could see.
But her
lot was a cage, her sofa thin wire
That callused her feet and marked her skin,
Her companions the puppies that were taken
Too young from her breasts.
No soft hand caressed her neck.
No soft words caressed her heart.
Her eyes
were cloudy and her coat dull,
That once glowed with the luster
Of fine polished wood.
Her ears, cropped unnecessarily
When she was young and trusting,
Still stood proudly erect.
Her
once-smooth muscles bulged with the
Contours of the cancers that will kill her,
The nemesis of many of her breed.
The sagging pouches beneath her
Gave testimony to dozens of hungry mouths
To which she once gave life.
When she
grew old, long before her time,
Blind heart of greed believed her
To have no worth. She was thrown
Beside a strange highway, on her own.
Limping, hungry, tired, she found
The first kind hand, the first soft words.
Worth? One
cannot buy the look of love
That her kind eyes, now clear, bestow.
Tiny hands have clung to her; tiny heads
Have rested on her warm side.
Rugged boys take her on safari
In the wild jungle behind the house.
Wistful
girls shed soft tears upon her neck,
And she gently offers her wide tongue
To show she understands.
All secrets are safe with her.
She guards by day, and comforts by night
And sneaks onto the sofa when no one can see.
Close this
window to return to Middle Tennessee Boxer Rescue