THE LATE THURSDAYEvery dog at the center has a story, as does every dog in every shelter across the country...some we know, others we do not. the following is just my thoughts about what one dogs life might have been before ending up homeless. there is a place not to far from here, where the grass was green, and the shade tress invited you to lay beneath their branches. where summer days were spent romping thru the fields and splashing in the pond behind the house i lived. Each evening you heard: dinner, come eat your dinner. and i would run to the kitchen to enjoy my meal. after dinner, we would sit on the porch - Old Jim (as his nieghbors called him) would sit in his rocking chair and I by his side. on cold winter nights we would sit by the fire and i would watch Old Jim drink hot cocoa. they were wonderful times, the memories eteched in my mind. ooo, life is so different now. Old Jim passed and no one wanted to take his beloved friend. i no longer run thru the fields, or enjoy the summer moons glow; nor warm my bones by the fireside. O, oh i miss Old Jim. I am inprisioned in a cell now, my days are spent with my nose pressed between the bars hoping for a pat on the head; a glimpse of sunlight. no longer a faithful companion.... today, i am a shelter dog....
Posted on: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 03:51:35 +0000
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