Tell Me Why …

does no one hold me when I cry? 

They say we are a good-natured breed,

cheerful and easy to get along with,

that to be happy there is little we need 

A place to have fun and not much more,

good food, a warm spot to sleep, and love

but I won't get that down on this floor. 

I was brought here when I was fairly young -

a gawky, healthy pup and though it's been a while

I still recall starlight and the bright, warm sun 

I remember running on grass and gazing at the sky

I had litter mates once and we would tumble and play

now there are dogs I can't see, but I hear them cry 

When humans come to get me they are wearing white

sometimes they take me to an enclosed patio of cement

I can stretch my legs, but I'm alone. To prevent a fight?

Once, a human pulled me out of my cage and on her sleeve

I could smell the confusion and despair from one of my kind

It made me nervous, I whined and I squirmed, wanting to leave

She flinched, a person yelled at her, and they walked away

since that time, when they come for me, there is no smell

no scent of the others who live in this jail of gray

They use needles and hurt me, but I don't know why

What they do to me makes me feel very sick

They may mumble, "This won't hurt much," but it's a lie 

Other times they put me to sleep and I awake in fear

Sometimes something's wrong with my eye or my ear

or I have sores, cuts, and I've lost some of my hair

I'm afraid, and sad, wondering how long will I be here? 

Someone should know that my soul is alive

and though they continue to hurt me,

my loving heart remains sweet

I haven't a name, just a number: KB-5 … 

… there are no toys, no walks, no treats 

Two humans have come to collect me

one is carrying a small plastic bag

The other, with a needle in hand, lifts me up

and lays me down on a cold metal slab

I'm given a shot, but this time it feels different -

it reaches inside of me, and goes deep 

Shivering, I feel like I should cry

but all that comes out is a whimper

Why is there no one to hold me? 

Tell me why …

the others and I must die? 

(© Kathy Pippig Harris, 2005;

Author’s note:

“For the Beagles who will never have the opportunity to be loved - and will not know what it is like to live in a forever home - with those who know what a treasure is the gift that is - dog.”)

*****

I would like to thank Kathy Pippig Harris for her kind permission to publish her poems and writings on my blog.