by Alexandria Malfitano
In the dark and dreary room,
he sat in his personal tomb.
Stack upon stacks of crates,
cutting tiny paws
that have never felt the cool grass beneath them.
The dark blanket covers his dwelling,
hiding his face from mine,
and I feel weak.
The foreboding air tells a story of horror.
or be nothing.
His small life has only begun,
and yet he has been slated for death.
I look under the cover, and he looks at me.
A face so full of fear and desire,
a body emaciated from lack of food,
fur that has never been brushed,
eyes that have never been met with love,
and it breaks my heart in two.
He is but a product to sell,
and nothing more to those who own him.
I snap the photo, and whisper,
“I’ll come back for you.”
His eyes light up with hope,
then turn dull again.
He hides back inside himself,
the only safe place left.
I will break open this puppy mill,
and save his life.
No longer will he and the others,
live in their own tomb,
but with real families,
who will love them and care for them.
I will help him.
I will help them.
We can save them.
An update: The Lucky 7 dogs have all been moved to their foster homes and are in the process of settling in. Some are doing better than others, but all are making progress. Their foster homes will continue to post updates here whenever possible.