Forever Home
Feb 7 2024
The encampment
under the overpass
looked almost festive;
the multicoloured tents,
buzz of its denizens,
big friendly dogs
running at large.
But drawing closer
I could see the shelters' flimsiness.
The garbage no one bothered with.
The haggard faces
bad teeth
tired looks.
The open fires
and piles of broken crap.
The rotting food
and city rats
running rampant all night.
The spider web of wires
dangling overhead,
like a hydra-headed viper
siphoning power.
The clotheslines
with crusted socks
hung to dry,
the thrift store finds
soaked from cold rain.
The drinkers and druggies
stumbling about
or suffering withdrawal.
The mentally ill
ranting and cussing
or mumbling to themselves.
And the down-on-their-luck,
who'd landed here
on their way someplace else.
Most people had lost weight,
their clothes, cinched at the waist
hung loosely
and looked big.
So even layered up
they looked thin.
But the dogs were fat
and sleek
and wagged their tails playfully,
clearly happy
here in their forever home.
As dogs being dogs
they would be anywhere.
Well-fed
and well-loved
they gave love back
to their human companions
in a way they'd rarely known
if they'd known it at all.
Rescue dogs,
saved by the people
in need of it most.
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