Rescued kittens, full of fun,
The people take their pick
And leave behind the older one.
She's lonely, so heartsick.
She's 9 years old, and every day
The people pass her by.
Don't want an older cat, they say,
Don't even want to try.
We want a kitten we can “train”
Not one set in her ways.
So in the shelter she'll remain
For many lonely days.
Pretty cats with fluffy fur
May get that second chance,
But ordinary mogs like her
Don't even rate a glance.
She feels her heart's about to break,
A picture of dejection,
And many times she'll have to take
This thoughtless, sad rejection.
She'd give out all the love she could,
You see it in her eyes.
If cats could cry real tears, she would,
And she can't verbalize.
She cannot speak to those that come
To choose; she can't appeal.
Oh, why did God make animals dumb
So they can't say how they feel?
© Mary Askew 2006