I sat on the neighbour's culvert and watched him. It was past midnight and he was stuck to that fence, afraid to move very far from it. At least there, there were other friendlies who wagged their tails and licked him through the bars.
He was limping. That was new. But then, he doesn't seem to have any traffic sense whatsoever. I've seen him sleep on the road, right in the path of cars, black as the road. They mow him down. They don't see him. And if they do, they don't care.
Like the person who abandoned him.
Sometimes when I offer food, he comes close and takes it. And looks at me from under his long black fringe. Deep brown eyes, the saddest eyes I've seen in a long time, eyes that tear me apart and make me want to gather him up in my arms and say, it's OK, I'm here, I'll love you, I'll take you in.
But it's too early. He lets me pat him a bit, his head hanging down, and then limps back to his security fence.
Little dog lost,
Little dog blue,
Little dog yearning,
I love you.
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