“Get away you wretched thing!” They shouted at their top of voice
At the sight of the dog in the parking lot, the white and black spotted dog
Timid yet sharp at human voice and weak yet wary in movements poise
It responds by walking, sneaking quivering, an outcast hurt by slog
Sniffing around while moving and resting coiled like spotted pod
Nudging close to a vehicle’s tyre, soon turn off to sleeping mode.

Whenever he wants to take bike he can't without waking the dog.
“Sorry Bro” he blurts voluntarily as he takes his bike out.
The dog would rise without hype even when his wheel would hog
Its fur coat or tail and even its ear lobes  should get hurt
The dog would jump up and at once shake off its whole body
Yawn and whine to say it’s unhampered by anybody

In the evenings, he sees  when he comes home from office
This displaced one placed coiled on the door mat outside.
It  makes him shout at top of  voice, “this nasty thing would have fleas”
And mites on its body and it might get inside and all side"
As if feeling guilty, it jumps and moves away without any fuss
The overwhelming shout provokes this beggar to know its poor status.

The little daughter of his takes some food secretly for this idiot
With the same amount of secrecy it will take the food and eat of it.
This same silent beggar, will jump and play with her like a hero prince-let
The moment his daughter returns from school and opens the front  iron-gate.
If he happens to be near shouts at daughter to be careful
The sad stray dog will move away from her like a page heedful


When he opens gate it sniffs and in a somnambulist like twist
Moves to the corner, rolls and falls  down for a  sleep, tail still wagging
Yet the secret play with his daughter persists like a romantic tryst
In his presence, a strange sense of guilt and shame pulls its head down sagging
Sometimes the dog evokes in him  sympathy scores galore
Giving impressions of an orphan
of forlorn folk lore

He begins to think of the life of this dog.
Who provides food and water to this dog?
Does it drink from the bucket kept for washing the car?
Who gives it food when it feels hungry?
The philanthropist in him gets diverted by a sudden phone call  
Some matters of greater value, than  the thought of a dog could enthrall.

Such dogs are plenty on this planet, in a larger context
This parking plot with him, his daughter and the dog in center
The protagonist evokes his sympathy in the pretext
Of loving and engaging his
daughter in genuine laughter
The dog sleeps on the cold cement floor during the winter showers
Indeed it needs some warm blanket to cover the chiller shivers

Aside he says “I am here to serve my children,
None parts the food meant for his child”. But the humble
Persistently praying Canaanite woman’s refrain
“Even poor dogs eat leftovers of masters table”
Fills him with impressions to shape his imagination
The dog turns into a virtual
master of cognition

This master with its antics emits symbols that fall on him with clarity
Like the light beaming on a silent pool giving deeper visibility
He grows wiser like the dog with its probable sensibility
“Lord, I eat the leftovers that fall from Your table Eternity.
Make me an instrument of your love to serve all with humanity"
...................................
Once he sees the dog with patches on its coat, sleek furs shedding  
Abominable smell and shape of patches drive people to yell
He spreads some antibiotic twice a day and prays, hands spreading
A few days later he sees the dog shining bonnebell.
“Thank you God, you heard my prayers and for your intercession
But O Bro, I thank you for penning with your intervention”.