Slowly he walks, glancing in cages. . .
“This one’s too old, to provide me more wages.
Too much to care for, not worth the trouble,
Throw the trash out, into the rubble.
It’s only a dog. . .”
My heart sinks, I fear, my death now draws near.
Now that I’m older and no longer can rear
Litter after litter for my owner to sell,
At least my puppies escaped from this hell. . .
Age has its rewards, or so I was told.
Truth is I’m worthless, now that I’m old.
Weak from neglect, I’m tired and sore,
Let’s get it over with, life’s been but a chore.
I’ve never known love, kind words or felt hope.
Truly I’m now at the end of my rope.
Here at the puppy mill, we know how it goes,
Stop producing puppies, we add to their woes.
Not worth keeping alive or the cost of rotten feed,
Garbage to those committing this dirty deed.
I cringe and await whatever my fate,
It cannot be worse than my life of hate.
My body so weakened from years of abuse
If only to find some way to break loose
But I’m “only a dog. . .”
Now who is this face peering back at me?
With a soft voice, so tender, she whispers softly
“Poor baby!” she coos, eyes brimming with tears,
“I’m so sorry your life’s been nothing but fear.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see that you’re freed
From evil puppy millers who bred you for greed.
Only a dog?!! All living creatures are sacred.
And none deserve this lifestyle of hatred.”
So she stands tall and says,
“I’ll take this one.”
“Ten bucks, she’s yours,” he sneers back all thrilled.
Chuckling, he mutters, “One less bitch to be killed.”
Choking back tears, she hands him the bills,
Sickened by horrors of tortuous puppy mills.
She vows then to promise to let everyone know
That much help is needed to end all this woe.
Scooping up her tired dog, she caresses filthy fur.
Tears now freely flow, she sees but a blur.
So this is what it feels like, being petted and cuddled
The dog peers into her eyes, completely befuddled.
You saw past my filth, my stench and my anguish
At last to feel tenderness, no longer to languish!
And she hastens her pace to escape from the mill
Knowing sadly too well, the dogs left that he’ll kill. . .
Christine Shannon, 2010
“This one’s too old, to provide me more wages.
Too much to care for, not worth the trouble,
Throw the trash out, into the rubble.
It’s only a dog. . .”
My heart sinks, I fear, my death now draws near.
Now that I’m older and no longer can rear
Litter after litter for my owner to sell,
At least my puppies escaped from this hell. . .
Age has its rewards, or so I was told.
Truth is I’m worthless, now that I’m old.
Weak from neglect, I’m tired and sore,
Let’s get it over with, life’s been but a chore.
I’ve never known love, kind words or felt hope.
Truly I’m now at the end of my rope.
Here at the puppy mill, we know how it goes,
Stop producing puppies, we add to their woes.
Not worth keeping alive or the cost of rotten feed,
Garbage to those committing this dirty deed.
I cringe and await whatever my fate,
It cannot be worse than my life of hate.
My body so weakened from years of abuse
If only to find some way to break loose
But I’m “only a dog. . .”
Now who is this face peering back at me?
With a soft voice, so tender, she whispers softly
“Poor baby!” she coos, eyes brimming with tears,
“I’m so sorry your life’s been nothing but fear.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see that you’re freed
From evil puppy millers who bred you for greed.
Only a dog?!! All living creatures are sacred.
And none deserve this lifestyle of hatred.”
So she stands tall and says,
“I’ll take this one.”
“Ten bucks, she’s yours,” he sneers back all thrilled.
Chuckling, he mutters, “One less bitch to be killed.”
Choking back tears, she hands him the bills,
Sickened by horrors of tortuous puppy mills.
She vows then to promise to let everyone know
That much help is needed to end all this woe.
Scooping up her tired dog, she caresses filthy fur.
Tears now freely flow, she sees but a blur.
So this is what it feels like, being petted and cuddled
The dog peers into her eyes, completely befuddled.
You saw past my filth, my stench and my anguish
At last to feel tenderness, no longer to languish!
And she hastens her pace to escape from the mill
Knowing sadly too well, the dogs left that he’ll kill. . .
Christine Shannon, 2010
only a dog
7775 dogs saved and counting
It's about the dogs
Copyright © 2012, National Mill Dog Rescue
Copyright © 2012, National Mill Dog Rescue