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Fiona King Mar 2017
It's cold in the fields, and the wind it blows fierce.
My fur is all matted, but the ice rain can pierce.
My paws, they are bleeding, I have walked a long way,
with no destination, no place to stay

I curl up in the bushes and hope they give cover.
I close my sore eyes and I think of my mother.
She was tired but kind and they took me away.
I cried for a long time and did quietly pray.

I stayed in a cage with my brothers and sister.
She went away first and I desperately missed her.
The boys went together and I was alone.
No family, no dinner, no pride and no home.

I tried to get comfy but the cage was so hard.
I saw no green fields just a bare concrete yard.
The men came with scraps they were rough they were cruel.
I slipped out of that cage breaking their rule.

I ran like a bullet and never looked back.
To the pain, and the fear, and the loss of my pack.
It's just me now but at least l'm alive
Battered and broken but still I survive.

I crawl out of the bushes disheartened and numb.
My stomach is growling, I can't find a crumb.
I chew on some grass but it makes me feel ill.
I will move on again if I can muster the will.

I spot in the distance, a human, I'm scared,
but I smell something good and I no longer care,
I run to the man with a devious plot,
I'll grab his good breakfast while it's still nice and hot.

As I approach, he speaks to me gently
He bends down to my side and says god must have sent me.
There are people who long for a friend just like me.
Just to play in their garden and curl on their knee

He gives me his breakfast and smiles as I eat.
He tickles my neck and lifts me off my sore feet.
He carries me home I'm too tired to fight.
I'm taken away to a shelter that night

I still feel lonely but the humans are kind.
They give me some food and my wounds they bind.
They bathe me and brush me and cut out my matts
They give me a bed, and some strokes and some pats

Some new people come in to visit one night.
I am happy to see them, they are moved by my plight.
They promise to come back so I can go with them.
They are sure of the joy and the love I could give them.

I go to the house, there's a garden to play in.
I got my own toys and my own bed to lay in.
I've got lots to learn about life with a family.
But I'm as clever and sharp as a little dog can be.

Soon we are family and now I belong.
My memories of past times will shortly be gone.
I sigh to myself as I munch on my bone.
Now I am happy, now I am home.
Fiona King Jan 2017
Your tail is too curly, Just like a pig.
Your Manners are poor and you’re not very big.
Your legs are too short and they bend the wrong way.
You snore in your bed at the end of the day.

Your ears are too pointy, you look like a bat.
You won’t wear a coat or a jumper or hat.
Your fur is unruly it’s always in knots.
You will roll on a dead thing, just after it rots.

Your body is long, Like Gnashers, you’re tatty,
But you don’t like the brush and can get a bit ratty.
You grumble and swear if your dinner is late.
Not a morsel of food will be left on your plate.

Your eyes, they are covered you can’t see through your fur.
You zoom through the house til you’re only a blur.
Your temper is firey, you are quick to mouth off.
You can pull on your lead til you splutter and cough.

Your skittish outside when the night starts to fall.
You sometimes won’t ‘leave it’ or ‘come’ when I call.
You dance in the water no matter how *****.
You’re a little bit strange and your habits are quirky.

Curled like a coil, that tail starts to wiggle.
and it fills me with joy that bursts out in a  giggle.
Your short legs are strong, you can run very fast.
And you snore cos you learned, you can trust us, at last.

When your bat ears point  high and your eyes fill with light,
I know you’ve heard Dad, coming home for the night
When you are smelly, you play in the bath.
Jumping and splashing and making me laugh.

Your body’s just right to fit curled  on my knee.
Your fur’s  beautifully grey and as soft as can be.
Whatever we feed you, we know you will finish.
You eat all your meat and even your spinach.


When your fur’s brushed away, your eyes, black like coal,
glisten and shine like your beautiful  soul.
The barking’s  all bluster, but you'd die for your pack.
The noise making up, for the stature you lack.

You snuggle inside when the night starts to fall
and mostly you ‘leave it’ and ‘come’ when I call.
My terrier angel, My sweet contradiction,
Eclectic and beautiful, flawed, to perfection

— The End —