The Dog’s Message

December 25, 2009
I walk outside, spotting a little dog,
The dog is malnourished, tiny.
It stares at me with wide chocolate eyes,
As if trying to tell me something.

But it's a dog, I a human;
I don't understand it.
I move closer, I kneel down,
My hand reaches out to touch it.

It backs away in fear, about to run,
Gently, I coax it back, petting it.
I stroke its soft, wet, silky fur, I feel hard bumps, the scars, the blood.

I see bones protruding, clearly defined,
Scars, old and new, slashed across the fur.
There are cuts, bruises,abrasions,
My heart goes out to the poor dog.

I know it won't last much longer,
But I am determined to help it.
It whimpers softly, satisfied,
It lies down, curls up, and is still.

I know it's dead, I gaze at it sadly,
I look at my hand, stained with its blood.
At last, I understand its brown eyes,
The message it had been communicating.

It wasn't the first to try to pass it on,
This lone dog was one of many. Those deep, dark, solemn eyes told me,
Help the others, stop animal abuse.

I blink back the tears in my eyes, Give it one final, sorrowful glance.
For I am resolute, my choice is made,
I will obey it, I will help.





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