Pinto

My dog is from the SPCA.
Hardened but weakened all the same time
by the constant passing of people.
The pleading eyes that bore,
searching,
for the little part of you that would take pity.
But on you move.
The quiet hum of electricity slowly
becomes louder and louder.
For the caged animals,
they sit everyday listening to the constant hum,
thinking "What did I do to deserve this?
What future is in store for me?"
You nurture the idea that you are not ready for a pet
so you drive away
leaving them behind,
moving on.
The unwanted pet is left alone.
Today my dog spends his days bathing in the comforting sun,
resting his greying muzzle on the deck.
But before I go to bed at night,
you can sometimes hear him whimpering in his sleep.
I’m sure it's just his past tugging at him in his sleep.