A Fuzzy’s trying to chew his knot.
The sun is stinging through his fur.
He’s panting – he has barked a lot –
But no one’s moved enough to stir.
A nurse had checked his collar tag –
Addresses, numbers, anything –
Remarked the tail he couldn’t wag,
And asked the people gathering.
But none at all had seen this Spitz,
As none at all is from this place.
We’ve travelled here with crying kids
And loved ones in their dying days.
Perhaps, like us, he has demands.
Perhaps, his loved one’s dying too.
Perhaps, like us, he’ll understand
There isn’t much for him to do.