It wasn't long ago
that I ran the dusty track for show
Devoted and driven,
my face pierced the wind,
as race after race I fought to contend,
slow at the turn and lacking in grace,
I did my best, but I was never placed.
I loved to run and hear the crowds roar
but the cheers turned to boos
when I didn't score.
Folks
lost their money when
they bet on me,
they called me a loser,
and
"retire number three".
I had no idea what was in store for me,
as I walked from the track
for the very last time.
My owner was waiting,
eyes cold, face long,
I sensed inside that I
wouldn't go home.
I tried to change my persons mind,
and wagged my mighty tail,
but
I knew, deep down,
without a doubt
just like racing I had failed.
We drove along a country road,
'til we came upon a town
where,
there on the side was a place called
'the pound'.
A pretty woman came outside and
took me from my crate,
my owner signed the papers
and looked me in the face,
he
said "I'm sorry I have to leave
you here and have you put to sleep,
you're
not as fast as the others,
you cannot earn your keep".
I felt
my heart break into bits
as I bowed my head down low,
I knew that it was over,
I had no place to go.
Inside the dingy building,
I was checked and weighed.
A voice said "we'll put him down
tomorrow, if not today".
I heard the pretty one say,
"don't look him in the eye,
he
has that greyhound gaze that says
I do not want to die".
They
put me in a kennel,
with the others on death row.
I lay down on
the concrete and
moaned so soft and low.
As morning filtered through the bars
I stretched my weary
bones,
the pretty woman came to me
and said
"It's time to go".
The hall was dark and cold,
I did not cry or weep,
I used my eyes and face
and soul to halt eternal sleep.
She
tried her best to use defence
and look away from me,
she seemed
to know how wrong
it was to do this dreadful deed.
She bent down close and
held my face against her cheek,
the needle entered my front leg,
and quickly I felt weak.
I heard the woman sobbing
as she laid me on the floor,
I
saw a glimpse of her,
and then I saw no more.
I may not have been the fastest dog
to ever run the track,
I just wish someone had loved me,
so I could have loved them back.
Written by Pat Graham, a lady dedicated to the rescue
and rehoming of racing greyhounds.
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