Friday, December 9, 2011

while still a baby


snow face.

lilly white; sun plays tricks;

you are the magic canvas.

When you were a puppy -- no sounds; congenital deafness --

NOT A SOUND. only sight. only smell. only feel. only taste.

no fight.

no game.

no worth.

No hearing for the stupid little pit bull. Damn you to Hell, you bitch!

They called you ‘bait dog.' (Angel, my beloved animal guide)

how could you know you would save my very life?

you spent ‘babyhood’ as bait. And the aggressors? Your breed.

Pit bulls. Mean Ones. Fighting Ones. One-Hundred pound males with

intact testicles -- jaws like sharks. ALL muscle. They tried to blind you with bites.

— and the human trash involved —


When you. YOU! My white Angel -- when you were discovered in Moses Lake, Washington.

In that lonely orchard,

your deaf ears were nearly-frozen.

When you, my whiteness, were rescued, your head -- covered with pus filled bites. They nearly blinded you. (your milk chocolate eyes still shining) Delicious. Beautiful.

When YOU (you; my beloved companion) found deliverance from HATE and CRUELTY, you were dying,

a tiny puppy. Nearly frozen. Nearly blinded. (legs tortured from the feces filled crate)

Only monsters torture puppies (fight ‘em); and these monsters

are still with us: free. They still fight those dogs. It’s just for fun.

Maybe a little money. They hide it from police. It is illegal; we all know that.


Angel. You survived. You thrived.

You see -- and you see those who love you.

Angel, you see the beautiful days ahead.

Angel, you 'hear' the truth in your own way.

And just so you know,

--- those monsters will rot in Hell ---