Andrea Rosebrock 
Don’t close the door! Don’t push me away.
Why are you leaving?
Don’t make me stay.
Slow down the car, I can’t keep up.
This pavement is hot and my pads are cut.
I’ve got to quit running or my heart will pop.
Every muscle is aching.
Why don’t you stop?
I’m so hungry and thirsty. Darkness is near.
But I shouldn’t leave, he will come for me here.
Several weeks have passed, I am dead on my feet.
They call me a nuisance because I eat off the streets.
Every car that passes, I chase it to see
If it’s my master coming for me.
Though I approach those that come near
With trust in my eyes and no sign of fear.
With hate in their voices and a cold, heartless stare,
They threaten to kill me – they don’t even care.
Batter my body with rocks that they throw,
I will not leave, he will come, don’t you know?
Overtaken with weakness, my body is numb.
I’m sick and so lonely.
Oh please, let him come!
I will go back where he first threw me out.
I’ll wait for him there, he will come, no doubt.
My thoughts are fading. My chest feels like lead.
I’m sleepy, so sleepy – I can’t lift my head.
It’s so quiet, so peaceful — all remains still.
There is my master at my home on the hill.
Yes, I can see him, he’s calling my name.
His voice is so gentle, his hands are the same.
He decided he wants me. Things will be fine.
I really do love him, that master of mine.
My tail wags with pleasure. I can’t catch my breath.
He came in my dreams, but so did my DEATH!!
This poem is so sweet! It made me cry. I can only imagine just how accurate it really is for dumped dogs….the poor babies!
Thank you!
This poem is so very real for so so so so so many. It physically hurts my heart that anyone could do such a thing. This poem reminds me of another similar poem:
A Dog Sits Waiting
-Anonymous-
A dog sits waiting in the cold autumn sun,
Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run.
He’s been here for days now, with nothing to do,
But sit by the road, waiting for you.
He can’t understand why you left him that day.
He thought you and he were stopping to play.
He’s sure you’ll be back, and that’s why he stays.
How long will he suffer? How many more days?
His legs have grown weak, his throat’s parched and dry,
He’s sick now from hunger and falls, with a sigh.
He lays down his head and closes his eyes,
I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies.