I’m Stealing Your Dog on Friday

I’m stealing your DOG on Friday.

You know, that dog who your wife used to hold on her lap all day long. The dog that stayed glued to her side while she fought cancer. She loved that dog.

I’m stealing your dog on Friday.

That dog you leave outside in all kinds of weather. The one you said didn’t need a bath because she’d been out in the rain all day.

I’m STEALING your dog on Friday.

Because she’s spending way too many hours lying under your porch. She’s lonely.

You might be feeding her, but there’s more to having a dog than just providing food and water.

I’m stealing YOUR dog on Friday.

Because the only time you talk to her is when you are snapping at her. Because since your

wife died three years ago, she hasn’t been petted even once. She never hears a kind word.

She doesn’t wag her tail any more.

I’m stealing your dog on Friday.

Because you won’t license her or get her shots, or put her on heartworm preventative. You let her nails get so long they are growing into her pads. She is neglected.

I’M stealing your dog on Friday.

Because the way she howled the last time I drove away has been haunting me. She was crying for help.

I’m stealing your dog on FRIDAY.

Because she deserves better than the lonely life she has.

Because she deserves to be loved and valued.

Because she deserves to be happy.