THE GALGO

(Dedicated to Gloria)

Four months each year she coursed the hare, beneath the Spanish sun
Her hunting skills were much admired by all who saw her run
Her eyes were focussed on her prey, she chased that hare at speed
Outstripping all the other dogs - she turned with utmost ease.

With hunting over for the year - their purpose they’ve fulfilled
These Galgos are of no more use and many hounds are killed
Inhumanely these dogs die – too grim to contemplate
Thrown down wells or hung from trees – often seal their fate
Some, could be called ‘the lucky ones’ for they are left to roam
Just like nomads - these hound live - all without a home
On the streets they can be seen , they scavenge to survive
Stealing food from anywhere - just to stay alive
And when the season comes again for coursing hare once more
The gypsies seek these Galgos out, to hunt – just as before

And Gloria was one such hound - by means more foul than fair
They captured her to work for them - once more to chase the hare.
And as the seasons came and went and Gloria slowed down
They cast this ageing bitch aside - preferring younger hounds.
So she sought refuge where she could - starving, cold and weak
Her freezing body craving warmth - she curled up in the street.
Then Laura came across this girl - believing she was dead
Whilst weeping o’er her lifeless frame - this Galgo raised her head

And now she stands amidst the dunes and gazes out to sea
Her memories will slowly fade - of a life - that used to be.

By Judy Zatonski