I was born in the streets of Malibu,
You have perhaps heard that name a couple of times,
They say the world's hottest parties go on out there,
But for me, there was only cold snow.....
As for my appetite, I had to do with some stale meat loaf,
That the local butcher used to throw away from a back door,
That is if I was lucky; otherwise... use your imagination.
Then there was Mat, who tried often to steal that too,
He was a one frail, starved and crazy cat, but it is not in my nature to show mercy,
So I fought it off, often with a few scratches here and there.
It hadn't always been this way; there was Jerry I remember...
There was his cosy bed, there were his many games too,
My friends (I don't know where they are now) were jealous because I lived with Jerry,
Or maybe because I lived in a house that resembled a palace,
They kept me as a 'pet';
They called me 'Deutsche': whatever that meant,
But then I got too old, they thought, I wasn't 'fit' any more to be a pet,
"You can always get yourself a new one", Jerry's mom's said,
"These things come and go, this one is too stupid and old for your games now..."
Sure enough, I found myself on the Malibu street: 48B once again,
A place for tattered old buildings, garbage cans and unfortunate selves like myself.
It has been seven years since that winter's night...
I was taking a casual walk along the denser forest road some way off from Malibu,
That was where the six hounds caught me off my guard, and laid an ambush,
I don't know their reasons, only that they came at me from everywhere;
But it is not in my nature to turn tail and run, so I went for one's throat,
And split it open, blood streamed down like in a mystical stream on to that moonlit jungle path,
Perhaps they had never seen their own blood before... they ran away.
It was a week from then that I finally admitted to having sustained serious injuries,
I remember that night- an exceptionally cold night; the following morning- I never woke up.
So that was the story of my life,
But do you humans care? I'll tell you what....
I didn't make this trip back up for nothing:
It was to say that I see a bit of 'me' in 'you', way too much to say sooth,
You too are selfish, cruel, merciless and every other thing you can think of,
In common dog-speak, my story is pretty much yours too;
All that 'you and your humanity' has come to:
A Dog's Life...
You still think I am talking about a dog?