Going Home

Ink lings

old dog

He looked at me with cautious eyes
As I walked by his cage
The white whiskers on his face
Attesting to his age

I wandered down the row of strays
Looking at them all
In hopes I’d find the perfect friend
And their homelessness forestall

There were several that I liked
Most jumping at their gate
Telling me how much they’d like
To end their current wait

But somehow I could not forget
The old guy by the door
He wasn’t cute or young or spry
There was something more

I went and took another look
While he just sat and stared
As if to say I can’t believe
That maybe someone cares

There was a sadness to his face
That stirred something inside
I knew he’d traveled rocky roads
Before being cast aside

This is the one I told them
He’s going home with me
Put a collar on…

View original post 35 more words


About oldmainer

I am retired and live in southern Maine with my wife and two dogs of questionable origin. I created this blog as an outlet for my occasional opinions and random observations since my wife is tired of hearing them and, after 50 some odd years, probably with good reason. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
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