April 5, 2012
By Anonymous

There in the shelter,
down the very last row,
an old dog waits.
He waits to go.

His ears are drooping.
His tail won't sway.
He's been like this,
since she walked away.

He doesn't want life.
He doesn't care.
He has no reason,
without her there.

They come for him.
He holds his head high.
For the first and last time,
there's a spark in his eye.

He's led past the pens.
Silence falls.
Not one sound is made,
as he exits the hall.

A quiet room.
One needle marks his death.
He shudders and cries.
He takes a last breath.

And then it erupts.
Howls for the fallen.
He goes with a smile.
He heard them calling.

Chaos in the kennels.
A mad uproar.
Joined by a shadow,
not there before.

The shape of a dog.
But fading fast.
He's just saying goodbye,
He's not going to last.

He hesitates once,
hoping she'll hear.
Maybe this call,
will reach her ears.

He has to go now.
Heaven awaits.
A cruel death sentence,
made a wondrous fate.

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