by Robin Krautbauer
Webmistress’s note: This poem was written 19 years ago, at a time when greyhounds really did have to wish for homes for Christmas.
Dear Santa to you I make my wish,
This could be my very last Christmas list.
No time to be frivolous, I must hurry you see,
I’m no longer the best, they no longer want me.
I’ve heard of places where there are soft beds,
Sofas and pillows to lay your head,
Plenty of food and toys for play,
People who hug you night and day.
I’ve heard of the warmth the hugs can bring,
And car rides to get you wonderful things,
Large spaces to roam when you feel the need,
A place they will love me for being just me.
My wish, Dear Santa, I clearly state,
My hope as I sit closed tight in this crate,
To ask for myself I know is not right,
But please bring a family to love me tonight.