Biscuit – My Little Rescue Dog

The most precious little fellow you could ever hope to meet
Is a furry little orphan with a tail and four fat feet
Our encounter was coincidence or predestined you may say
I didn’t seek him out – he just appeared along the way
He was sitting in a trailer with a lot of other dogs
All in individual cages, holding woeful monologues
The hope was that the dogs would be adopted right away
By genuine dog-lovers, so each dog can have his day
Their obvious distress was just my very first impression
As evidence of cruel abuse emerged in quick succession
With mangled coats, abundant fleas and ill or underfed
They’d clearly been exposed to fear, a wonder some weren’t dead
It took a sturdy heart to grasp the impact of their pain
Their wretchedness was so acute but pity was in vain
I took a peep inside the truck and tried to understand
How humankind has come to this, so grossly underhand
I was living then in Florida where dogs are two a penny
People either just had one or accumulated many
House and car were OKAY you could get them all on credit
But when dogs were too expensive there was no account to debit
They would simply be abandoned without a second thought
Maybe someone else would save them and give them some support
One modest little fellow who attracted my attention
Was totally submissive in his tightly cramped detention
He lay as flat as possible – his hopes had long been dashed
As if he was resigned to fate, his look was quite abashed
It soon became apparent that I had to act quite fast
For him to dodge the death row and forget his gruesome past
There was something very special in the way he cocked his eye
And I knew I couldn’t ever let this little fellow die
I took him for a short walk just to see how he behaved
And he crouched along the car park just as though he was enslaved
His conduct showed the symptoms of complete intimidation
As though his soul had been exposed to permanent sedation
Something right inside me triggered off my sense of duty
And I volunteered to take on board this docile canine beauty
The dog where I was living was called “Cookie” so I figured
I’d call my cutie “Biscuit” even though some people sniggered
I bought a lead and collar and engraved a little plaque
To show that he belonged to me, there was no going back
I signed his legal papers and took him to my jeep
This humble little fellow was just a very sorry heap
As we drove home, he must have wondered what was coming next
I was hoping Cookie understood and wouldn’t be too vexed
With mounting apprehension I brought Biscuit to the door
And as it opened up, the dogs were leaping on the floor
They raced right through the house, hurdling over chair and sofa
Until poor Cookie could no more and slumped down like a loafer
Now Cookie had been solo for most of her existence
So she warmed to her new friend without the least resistance
She even let her room-mate have a nibble on her bone
And watched him with amusement just as if he was her own
Biscuit was the house-guest but he made himself at home
From this point on – no looking back, no need to go and roam
Amazingly both dogs relaxed and slept right through the night
But come the morning Biscuit roused and gave me quite a fright
His secret language indicated he was not too well
Until I realised that it was just a passing spell
As soon as I had taught him how to use the back-door flap
He bounded out to do a pee avoiding a mishap
He sniffed around the garden, most intrigued at what he found
At least his sense of smell had proved to be extremely sound
With two dogs out there squatting duly fed and fueled and fired
A Super-Duper Pooper Scooper had to be acquired
The next job was to groom him and reinstate him like a doggy
I brushed him till I could no more, and he was feeling groggy
I could have filled a pillow with the excess hair extracted
And when I’d finished Biscuit had quite visibly contracted
His manner was long-suffering he had clearly suffered worse
Even shampoo didn’t bother him – he didn’t seem averse
The end result was stunning, he emerged a different creature
With glossy coat and wagging tail, a dog in every feature
His doggy life in Florida was rather uneventful
But Biscuit was too happy to ever be the least resentful
He was a happy chappie and the milk of canine kindness
Most likely put behind him previous ignorance and blindness
Within four months I headed back to Switzerland for good
But not without my Biscuit – not to be misunderstood
Who knows just what he felt on his long journey overseas
In a crate in the large belly of a Boeing if you please
He had to fly via London and his journey took two days
But finally he landed and it proved that patience pays
Zürich Airport freight hall on a sunny summer’s day
A brand new life began for him – he’d found a home to stay.

Photo: Stefan Wälti