(first published in Lisburn Leader Wed 19th June 1991)
Three days to me is one to you,
Three days pass off as one,
You forget I'm up for almost two,
This dog's life is no fun.
All I see is legs and knee,
I eat what I am thrown.
I scrounge the crumbs that fall on me,
Would you be happy with a bone?
You call me Spot or Patch or Gold -
And names I can't repeat.
I sleep alone in blankets, cold.
I'm tagged and chained for those I meet.
I'm always getting pats and coos,/
I'm chased and tried by stranger.
And if I'm not finding balls and shoes
I'll bark to unknown danger.
And then I sink my teeth in leg
And then I'm whisked away by van.
I haven't jury, I can't beg.
I'm put to sleep. I'm killed by man.
Oh yes, you kill, and fight and knife,
And all I did was bite you.
I ask you please, once in my life,
Can I not have an off day too?
by Shane McClurg