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THE LOST DOGS
4. Finale
C. Leaves & Dogs
the maple leaves stick like glue to the roads, decay on the grass & footpaths, i kick them up,
as society puts the boot into dogs, that stray like leaves, & are truly lost, body upon body,
breaking down, falling apart, they each in their own way, touch down in this world & are
blown away, who will they choose today? who to live & who to die? the truckie's dog, or the
black & the tan, most likely all are gone, & part of me goes with them, this is, a concentration
camp for dogs, i could hardly drive away, futility sticking to me, like leaves, damp, injured
in my own way from being here, there is nothing bad about dogs, yet we give donations, to
the cold industry as hard as concrete, to help destroy them, 'it's a million dollar business',
said the director, over the phone, to me, & there is a million to one chance they will stop the
killing, to think it could start with something, as simple as a free desexing program, rather
than this warped compassion, the upfront image & the clever lies presented to the public,
even as a child i knew that the slaughter of unwanted dogs was wrong, before i was brain-
washed by the industry, backed up by government & the media, will we chose the death of all
that is good, through each hopeful dog? it is autumn, in the lost dogs' home, in north melbourne |
