A Girl and Her Dogs

Tray’s Poem
Written by: Leslie Whalen 2/01

One by One, they pass by my cage,
Too old, too worn, too broken, no way.
Way past his time, he can’t run and play.
Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way.

A little old man, arthritic and sore,
It seems I am not wanted anymore.
I once had a home, I once had a bed,
A place that was warm, and where I was fed.

Now my muzzle is gray, and my eyes slowly fail.
Who wants a dog so old and so frail?
My family decided I didn’t belong,
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong.

Whatever excuse they made in their head,
Can’t justify how they left me for dead.
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day,
The younger dogs get adopted away.

When I had almost come to the end of my rope,
You saw my face, and I finally had hope.
You saw thru the grey, and the legs bent with age,
And felt I still had life beyond this cage.

You took me home, gave me food and a bed,
And shared your own pillow with my poor tired head.
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low,
You love me so dearly, you want me to know.

I may have lived most of my life with another,
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger.
And I promise to return all the love I can give,
To you, my dear person, as long as I live.

I may be with you for a week, or for years,
We will share many smiles, you will no doubt shed tears.
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave,
I know you will cry and your heart, it will grieve.

And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new,
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you.
And I will brag to all who will hear,
Of the person who made my last days so dear.

A DOG ON A EUTHANASIA TABLE

I’m trembling and so worried, for I know I misbehaved.
I chewed Dad’s brand new slippers and saw just how he raged.

I did not mean to wreck them, but my teeth were very sore,
and chewing them relieved the pain and made me feel less bored
And when mom came to smack me, I piddled on the floor,
For I had held my pee all day and could not get out the door.

They said that I was “wicked”, a menace at first glance,
and when they tied me up outside, I howled for one more chance.

Rolled over and sat pretty, and did all those tricks they loved
But they could not forget the wrong and said they had enough
So they took me to a clinic where the smell alone put fear
Into my trembling body, but my cries they did not hear.

For they turned and walked out through the door, without a hug or pat.
I wonder if they will forget, and forgive me, when they come back?
But why do I feel so frightened, as though they’ve gone for good.

They said they’d love me till I died, they really said they would.
I’m strapped onto a table and they’re shaving my front leg
I think I’m getting a needle now, I feel it in my vein…
And why do I feel so lonely? without them comforting me?
And why do I feel so sleepy?
Oh please God, let them forgive me..

Author Unknown

A Dog Sits Waiting
By Kathy Flood

A dog sits waiting in the cold autumn sun,
Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run.
He’s been here for days now with nothing to do
But sit by the road, waiting for you.
He can’t understand why you left him that day
He thought you and he were stopping to play.
He’s sure you’ll come back, and that’s why he stays
How long will he suffer: How many more days?
His legs have grown weak, his throat’s parched and dry
He’s sick now from hunger and falls with a sigh.
He lays down his head and closes his eyes
I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies.

I Found Your Dog Today…
(author unknown)

I found your dog today.
No, he has not been adopted by anyone.
Most of us who live out here own as many
dogs as we want, those who do not own
dogs do so because they choose not to.
I know you hoped he would find a good
home when you left him out here, but he
did not. When I first saw him he was miles
from the nearest house and he was alone,
thirsty, thin and limping from a burr in his paw.

How I wish I could have been you as I stood
before him. To see his tail wag and his eyes
brighten as he bounded into your arms, knowing
you would find him, knowing you had not
forgotten him. To see the forgiveness in his eyes
for the suffering and pain he had known
in his never-ending quest to find you…but I was
not you. And despite all my persuasion, his
eyes see a stranger. He did not trust.
He would not come.

He turned and continued his journey;
one he was sure would bring him to you.
He does not understand you are not looking for
him. He only knows you are not there, he only
knows he must find you. This is more important
than food or water or the stranger who can give
him these things.

Persuasion and pursuit seemed futile;
I did not even know his name. I drove home,
filled a bucket with water and a bowl with food
and returned to where we had met. I could see
no sign of him, but I left my offering under the
tree where he had sought shelter from the sun
and a chance to rest. You see, he is not of the
desert. When you domesticated him, you took
away any instinct of survival out here. His
purpose demands that he travel during the day.
He doesn’t know that the sun and heat will claim
his life. He only knows that he has to find you.

I waited hoping he would return to the tree;
hoping my gift would build an element of trust
so I might bring him home, remove the burr from
his paw, give him a cool place to lie and help
him understand that the part of his life with you
is now over. He did not return that morning and
at dusk the water and food were still there
untouched. And I worried. You must understand
that many people would not attempt to help your
dog. Some would run him off, others would call
the county and the fate you thought you saved
him from would be preempted by his suffering
for days without food or water.

I returned again before dark. I did not see him.
I went again early the next morning only to find
the food and water still untouched. If only you
were here to call his name. Your voice is so
familiar to him. I began pursuit in the direction
he had taken yesterday, doubt overshadowing
my hope of finding him. His search for you was
desperate, it could take him many miles in
24 hours.

It is hours later and a good distance from where
we first met, but I have found your dog. His thirst
has stopped, it is no longer a torment to him.
His hunger has disappeared, he no longer aches.
The burrs in his paws bother him no more.
Your dog has been set free from his burdens,
you see, your dog has died.

I kneel next to him and I curse you for not being
here yesterday so I could see the glow, if just for
a moment, in those now vacant eyes. I pray that
his journey has taken him to that place I think you
hoped he would find. If only you knew what he
went through to reach it…and I agonize, for I know,
that were he to awaken at this moment, and (if) I
were to be you, his eyes would sparkle with
recognition and his tail would wag with forgiveness.