The B***h

When I was 2 in dog years, all the girls got jingley, silvery Alex and Ani bracelets,

Well my birthday present was a bracelet as well,

Plastic from the couture fashion of le Hasbro Children’s Hospital,

With all my information engraved on it too.

But I don’t really need this doggish arm collar,

Since every staff member calls me from down the hall,

While I creep forward with my tail between my legs,

Panting from anxiety,

Being obedient to their every instruction,

Without hesitation since I am well-trained.

“Don’t worry”, they say. “You’re an assisting dog.”

These fleas keep taking vile after vile of my blood

But why am I being dissected on a table like a lab frog?

 

I’m lost in the seas of the words pouring from my owner’s mouth.

What exactly is wrong with me?

The puppy in the next room is already blind,

But she takes me by my collar and tells me, “Don’t worry, you’re still beautiful like this sticker”

As she puts Belle’s smiling perfect rose-cheeked face on my bracelet,

I think she should have put the Beast from the sticker package.

But I guess its better that she doesn’t see the kennel she lives in.

 

I’m as sick as a dog.

My mother cries as she pets my head,

And tells me everything will be alright as I lay on the table.

I forgot what it feels like to be a puppy,

Running around free,

Without a care in the world,

Without a leash on the other hand.

Content to dig even if there was no hidden, buried treasure.

Now when I dig, all I find are bones.

Something the little puppy next door will never understand,

As she yelps and howls in pain.

Trying to live another dog year.

When I’m out on a walk,

All I hear as I stroll along with my ears perked up,

“What’s up with that b***h? She suddenly became so scrawny,

I think it’s probably because that insecure b***h

Barely touches her food dish.

I think she over-runs everyday.

Or is trying to fetch someone’s stick

In her mouth.”

Yes, because I enjoy the sight of my fur falling off in clumps,

And having immense pain in my weak, scrawny legs

As the owners forcefully drag my leash to make me stretch them out.

Chasing my own tail in endless circles to never see the end.

 

I work like a dog.

My family cries as the hospital bills keep piling up.

There is no money for my veterinarians anymore.

I work over forty hours while trying to pass school,

Getting paid illegally,

While all I hear is “Wow, look at that dirty mutt,

That impure breed,

Not following the rules.”

Well, sorry for not being able to afford Kibble.

 

But I now understand that maybe you’re all the b***h,

Barking, biting and attacking a member of your own species,

What happened to being the most loyal animals?

It’s not my fault that I am

from a different home,

Have different spots,

Am a different breed.

You’re no different from my cells,

Out of control and destroying one another, even if they are good,

But I would rather be a victim of lupus and a sickly mutt,

Than a victims of unfair judgement, and a poodley-b***h.