I’m not a beautiful show dog,
I’m not a fantastic champion.
And I’m not a worthless stud dog,
I’m a loving friend and companion.
I’m not on this earth to breed,
To father new puppies everyday.
I’m here to have a family of my own,
That will love me, walk me and play.
An owner who will feed me
And give me what I need,
An owner to protect me,
That is what I plead.
I haven’t got any of those things,
But I’m on the lookout all the time,
If you’d like me please come and say,
Because then I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine.
The Dogs Home took me off the street,
They gave me a bed and food to eat.
It’s much better than the coldness outside.
If I’d been loose during the winter, I’d surely
have died.
I’m in an enclosure; I’m not alone.
But all of us here are looking for a home.
But even with a crowd of us,
Sometimes it’s still lonely.
We all have a limited time here only,
After that they take you behind a metal door.
And once you step inside that room,
You’re not seen any more.
Maybe that’s where families are?
A lot of my friends have gone that way.
And once they disappeared from my sight,
I didn’t see them again after that day.
But there’s a smell of fear coming from there,
A sense of death and people who don’t care.
A smell of blood and a sense of dread,
Panic fills me inside my head.
“His time is running out now,”
I heard the worker say.
Does that mean I get a second chance?
Do I go home today?
I haven’t got a master now,
To that I must agree.
Do anything you want but Please
Don’t take my life from me
By Moya
Muldowney, 15
2nd August 2001
He lunged towards the end of the chain
If he didn't succeed, try again, try again.
He couldn't break the chain, he wasn't that strong.
And his muscles were tired from trying for so
long.
He lay down once more, in the glare of the sun.
How he longed for freedom, to be able to run.
It wasn't much fun, in that yard all day.
He needed a walk, he wanted to play.
The sun was so harsh shining down upon him.
He needed some water, he needed a swim.
There wasn't any food given out at all.
Just an old washing machine and a red rubber
ball.
His body was aching, he was so tired.
He looked at the sky and soon was inspired.
He ran around the machine, getting the chain
tangled up.
To anyone passing he looked like a pup.
Then he jumped on the washing machine, for he
wanted to fly.
And like a bird, he flew through the sky.
The chain rope snapped, it couldn't hold him
down.
He crash-landed onto the ground.
He got up again, cool as could be.
He couldn't believe it; he really was free.
He ran out of the sun and into the shade,
Out of the yard, into a glade.
The lake was there with water so cold.
He drank and drank until no more he could hold.
He ran onto the road, looking straight ahead.
The car caught him on the side, he was immediately
dead.
A typical ending to a poor dog's life.
An unhappy home, days full of strife.
A master who didn't want him, just didn't care.
No one to love him, when he needed someone there.
No training was given, he was bored and broke
free.
Then the car hit him and ended his glee.
By Moya
Muldowney, 15