A DOG FOR CHRISTMAS
I’d love a dog for Christmas, one from the pound,
It does not matter what size as long as he is found,
My own dog, the one that is meant just for me,
I don’t expect him wrapped and under the tree.
Can we just go and look, see each sad dog face,
With hopeful eyes, wagging tail and an eager pace,
But look at that one he seems to have no hope at all,
Looked over, then left, his name they never did call.
They lifted him out of his pen, his eyes did not shine,
Even with just half a tail wag he would become mine,
He raised his head and lifted his paw my hand to shake,
It seemed the only effort that this poor dog could make.
He was not a handsome dog, should we take him home?
Death after this week no longer on earth to roam,
I’d love a dog for Christmas, nothing else under the tree,
Maybe this poor critter is the dog that is just right for me.
We took him home and fed him, but he still seemed sad,
Maybe this was the first decent home he’d ever had.
Or did he miss loved ones who had given him away?
But this Christmas though happiness he brought my way.
It did not take long for trust and great love to grow,
We found out he’d been beaten, tossed to and fro.
Now he is a handsome dog, his eyes full of hope again
And my Christmas gift is free from all hurt and pain.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 6 January 2005