By Sandy Thompson
My family brought me home cradled in their arms.
They cuddled me and smiled at me, and said I was full of charm.
They played with me and laughed with me, they showered me with toys.
I sure do love my family especially the girls and boys.
The children loved to feed me, they gave me special treats.
They even let me sleep with them–all snuggled in the sheets.
I used to go for walks, often several times a day.
They even fought to hold the leash, I’m very proud to say.
They used to laugh and praise me, when I played with that old shoe.
But I didn’t know the difference between the old ones and the new.
The kids and I would grab a rag, for hours we would tug.
So I thought I did the right thing when I chewed the bedroom rug.
They said that I was out of control, and would have to live outside.
This I did not understand, although I tried and tried.
The walks stopped, one by one; they said they hadn’t time.
I wish that I could change things; I wish I knew my crime.
My life became so lonely, in the backyard on a chain.
I barked and barked all day long, to keep from going insane.
So they brought me to the shelter, but were embarrassed to say why.
They said I caused an allergy, and then kissed me goodbye.
If I’d only had some classes, as a little pup.
I wouldn’t have been so hard to handle when I was all grown up.
“You only have one day left,” I heard the worker say.
Does this mean a second chance? Do I go home today?