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The Death of the Shelter Dog 

For Miss Piggy, with acknowledgement to Randall Jarrell

From my litter's warmth I tumbled to the State's
And I crouched in its bosom until all hope drained.
There, cage-confined, I barked and cried and paced.
My end: a red-filled syringe and the needle sharp.
When I died they rendered me down for fat and bone.

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About The Author

Bob Ewing

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