Out the back.

Now I can no longer run
Around that oval track,
They’ve moved me from my kennel,
And put me ‘out the back.’

Through the years I’ve stood and watched
As friends pass through that door,
Then turned away with heavy heart
For they were seen no more.

Sometimes I thought I heard them
As darkness slowly fell,
But here the sound just echoes round,
So it was hard to tell.

Truth be known, it frightened me
To contemplate their fate,
For I knew then my time would come,
I only had to wait.

And now I’ve walked that lonely walk,
But who am I to tell?
For when we’re shifted ‘out the back,’
Our life’s a living hell.

Our beds are damp and soiled,
No warmth or comfort there,
Out here our needs are rarely met,
And no one seems to care.

Our days are long and lonely
With no human company,
For we are kept well hidden,
Where prying eyes can’t see.

Was I not a loyal servant,
A true and trusted friend?
What crime was mine that I should meet
This sad and painful end?

Written by Denise Dubarbier. She has written a book of poems that she sells for a Greyhound charity, price £6.50 each. Contact me for details.

Out the back

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