To the Driver of the Blue Fiat Doblo…

The dog that you threw from the window as you drove past K9 Animal Refuge today ran its heart out to try to to catch up with you. It tried so hard to get to you that it was out of sight by the time the alarm was raised and the people of K9 were not able to catch it.

Your ‘best friend’ will be spending the night alone, in the hills or perhaps on the roadside of the TF1, terrified, cold, hungry and very likely soaked to the skin. Perhaps if he makes it through the night , he will be found and brought back to safety tomorrow.

On the other hand, perhaps you will drive past his dead body tomorrow on your way north to pick up your kids’ Christmas or Three Kings presents from Carrefour or Decathalon. I only hope that in amongst the glittering display of regalos that you have for your children this year, that there are none with a pulse and a beating heart.

Still, perhaps you can console yourself and justify your cowardly act in knowing you are not alone. Your heartless betrayal has been seen and recorded many times before. In fact, just the other day I came across a poem by Robert William Service – the Bard of the Yukon – which practically mentions you by name.

They dumped it on the lonely road,
Then like a streak they sped;
And as along the way I strode
I thought that it was dead:
And then I saw that yelping pup
Rise, race to catch them up.

You know how silly wee dogs are.
It thought they were in fun.
Trying to overtake their car
I saw it run and run:
But as they faster, faster went,
It stumbled, sore and spent.

I found it prone upon the way;
Of life was little token.
As limply in the dust it lay
I thought its heart was broken:
Then one dim eye it opened and
It sought to lick my hand.

Of course I took it gently up
And brought it to my wife
Who loves all dogs, and now that pup
Shares in our happy life:
Yet how I curse the bastards who
Its good luck never knew!