Do I Go Home Today?

by Sandy Thompson

 

My family brough 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 and showered me with toys.
I sure did 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.

These are the things I'll not forget — a cherished memory.
I now live in the shelter — without my family.
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 they each 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 that mean I have a second chance?
Do I go home today?