You have all heard about the "One Hundred and One."
I would like to tell you of "One."
I was adopted soon after the movie came out.
I was only three months old. They said I was "cute."
I was given by two adults to a very small boy.
They wanted to give him everything, including me.
I loved them so much, and they loved me too.
I grew very fast and sometimes played rough.
I was quick to lick his face and wag my tail to show
him I still loved him. I just wanted to play!
He always forgave me and gave me a hug.
But, I was forced to spend more time alone outside the big house.
I was six months old and still just a pup.
I always had food and water to drink.
I also had a small house all my own.
No one laughed or played with me anymore.
In time, I was not allowed in the "big house" at all.
So I spent more time digging ... It passed away time.
More and more I heard angry voices tossed my way.
I tried to quit digging; I really did try.
One day I was loaded into the big car.
I was getting attention, and my hopes flew high.
We must have driven an hour and then some.
I didn't know where we're going. I didn't care.
We stopped at a building that had lots of smells.
The barking was like music to my ears.
There were a lot of my kind here, some I had never met.
Many told stories much sadder than mine.
The concrete is cold, and the winds pushed through.
I had no house of my own, but noe of the others had one.
As night came I waited for him to come badk.
Morning came, and he still wasn't there.
Still I waited; I knew he would come.
None ever came bac. I waited for my turn.
My turn came after three cold days.
I, too, was led from my run.
I was placed on a table by two cold hands.
The last I remember was a prick to my skin.
Peace has come at last ... My heart feels no pain.
I am not cold, and I am not alone.
I am only ten months old. I think I am dead.
Tell me ... Was I not cute anymore??
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