Shelter Dog - With Spelling Edit

I’ve been sitting here for long lonely days In this small space that I cannot escape from. I am one of many other dogs in their own small spaces where we stay in a long row, all different sizes and types of us! There are so many of us here that when one of us barks, many others start barking us well. What a ruckus! I prefer the quiet of the place that used to be my home. People -strange people – walk past us. Often they bring children who are eager to pet us or play with us. Then our “spaces” may be opened and the children or older people be allowed to touch us. Sometimes a dog will leave with one of these families. We rarely see such a dog return. I imagine they are happy in their new home. Other times dogs are removed from their space but they do not leave with strangers. They are taken to a back room by one of the men here who feed us daily. Mysteriously, such dogs as these never return. They are replaced a short time later by other dogs that occupy their old spaces. I do not understand why they did not leave with the visitors who so often bring children. I keep remembering the day “my family” brought me to this awful place. My lovely mistress was crying softly. Tears filled her eyes as she kissed my head. She and my master were saying words I did not understand. I knew one word though. My mistress kept saying SORRY. It’s a word she used at my old home like when she had done something to upset the master. I didn’t do anything to make anyone angry. Why was she saying sorry when she left me here? Why was she crying? I had been such a good companion to her. I followed her everywhere she went in the house. She would stroke my fur each night as she and master lay in bed watching the talking box in the sleeping room. I would rest peacefully near her as we slept each night away. It’s been a while since she and master left me here. I feel very sad to think they won’t return, so I’ve been hoping to be released to one of the eager families that come here to visit, so I try hard not to bark. I know my master hated it when I barked. I was nice and quiet almost all the time, so why did they bring me here? I feel a weird and scary feeling about that back room. Something is not right about that place. Suddenly the man who feeds me has come to the door of my space they call a cage. He lifts me up and heads with me to that back room, and my tiny heart is beating so fast . . . Feb. 6, 2021 for Edward Ibeh's Break My Heart, Why Don't Cha Poetry Contest