No longer by my doorstep he would sit,
That’s because he had found a home fit,
Where they cared for him after he was hit,
And nursed him back to fighting fit,

Yes, he had found a home,
No longer the colony streets he would roam,
He had a roof above,
And a family that did him love,

No longer to my whistle he did respond,
But I am sure of me he was still fond,
Just that he was now tied up,
Family tie-ups he cannot blowup,

Sometimes I see him behind gated doors,
Gazing wistfully crouching on all his fours,

I wonder if he yearns to be out,
In the colony freely roam about,
Wonder if he misses hanging out,
With his buddies, tall and stout,

I remember him throwing his weight around,
Barking loud as along strangers he would bound,
Does he long to do as he pleases?
Does home comfort his pain eases?