By Sandy Carroll
My rescue dog never had a Christmas,
He was always around dumpsters and such,
Never had food from a bowl with his name,
Much less a kind person's touch.
Decorating for Christmas, I tossed him a ball,
But he'd never played before.
It was like he kept waiting and wondering,
If he'd get put out my door.
He had no idea how special he was,
I would have faced Christmas alone.
There would be no cards, or presents,
No happy voice on the phone.
I took him riding to look at the lights,
I think he saw dogs that he knew.
We ate us a burger at Sonic,
I think he had visited there too.
He slept on the bed; my old sock in his mouth,
Security takes on many forms.
I named him “Gift” cause I got him,
Around the time that Jesus was born.