Three Dogs

 

 

Our first, black and white,
Stood scruffily in the kennel at the dogs home.
His face gazed lovingly, imploringly at mine.
When the kennel hand put on his lead
And passed him to me through the open door
He bounded to me with excitement,
Running at me with intent
“This is the one for me” I thought.
As he veered he ran straight through my legs
And hauled himself up to the litter bin
Hungrily, determinedly.
And I felt humbled, compassionate,
And even more sure.
He came home with me.

 

Our second dog, more black, less white
Stood keenly at the front of the cage
And as I passed, not yet taken with her looks

She followed me with her eyes
Right past and back again three times.
And when the kennel hand tried to put on her lead
She cowered at the back,
Shivering, shaking
The girl couldn’t get her out,
Afraid that she might bite.
Nor would the second kennel hand.
Or the third.
I offered to get her out myself.
But was told “No.”
“But how will she ever get a home?” I snapped.
The manager was called,
The dog brought shyly out.
And she came home with me!

 

Our third, yes, black and white
Sat in her bed
And when approached
She turned her head away in fright,
Lifting a paw to show me she meant no harm.
It took an hour or so, sitting, before she’d look.
Even longer to entice her to approach.
And each time I held out my hand
She showed me that she had been hit.
Her trust in people sadly now betrayed.
I could not leave her there.
She too came home with me.

 

And for my sins,
One dog, two dogs, and now three
Spec, Daisy, Meg, so proud and free
Have made the making out of me.
Their lives were special, every one.
And I am so pleased I rescued them.

 

 

 

Belinda Wells