A Greyhound's point of view.

Ever thought of how it feels
To be cold and hungry and down at heel?
Being a Greyhound is hard, you see
When you've raced and lost, you're thrown in the sea.

Some give you tablets then a bag on your head
Hoping you'll soon be quite, quite dead.
Some shoot us or dump us, they couldn't care less
That's why we end up in an awful mess.

We do our best and try to please
And win our races with the best of ease.
But when we tire and start to slow down
Our owner looks at us with that awful frown.

"It's time to go", he needs the space
For the next poor dog who's starting to race.
If we are lucky we'll end up at Pat's
Where we're safe from all harm, and there are no cats!

We don't have to please and do our best,
Pat says it's best to eat and rest.
There's Kathy, Geoff and Brian - what a marvellous bunch
All waiting to take us for walkies, then lunch.

It's brilliant here, we're all different and funny,
Our new mum keeps calling us "Love" and "Honey".
We're her "special babies" and spoiled rotten too
This is from a Greyhound's point of view!

Copper

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