A Special Friend.

A Gentle hand stroking my head,
Soothing words being said,
Plenty of food for me to eat,
Someone to bathe my old sore feet.

I'm eight years old and going grey,
My new mum says that I can stay.
She says I'm ill so I must rest,
I'll have a sleep, my mum knows best.

My Life's been hard and now I'm shattered,
I need my rest 'cause I've been battered.
It feels so strange to have a home
Where I am loved and never alone.

I'm kissed and hugged, my future's bright,
I'll sleep with mum in bed tonight.
For months I've slept out in the cold,
It's too much when you're getting old.

But now I'm safe and cared for too,
There's so many things I'd like to do,
Like go for walks or play with toys,
At my age, I'm not into boys.

There are lots of Greyhounds here you see
Who are too old to home, just like me.
So we're staying here until the end,
With mum --- our very special friend.

Nacho and Bandida

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