In charity shops, is there a sadder sight
than piled up high, clean and bright,
donated after trips to the vets,
the pre-owned bowls of beloved pets?
Without ceremony or due respect,
not even collars and leads are kept.
I’m trying carefully not to offend,
but each piece represents the end
of cherished pets, no longer here,
their worldly goods dumped at the rear
of the shop in the dead of night,
because owners couldn’t face the sight
of the bowls that lived in the corner.
Understandable for any mourner.
Because let’s not try and pretend
that pets aren’t our closest friends.
It’s just sad to see those toys and bowls
that carry their cat and doggie souls,
in a bargain box where stranger’s look.
It’s a sad way to close a precious book.