Never A Mother

Never a mother She was a rescued dog a tiny mite lost in the wilderness of man and left to die. A shivering whelp, it was a cold day held her under my coat the trembling stopped she fell asleep. At the time I was rebuilding a ruin I had no furniture only a camp bed. I put the puppy on some canvass the workers used when painting, and she wouldn´t hear of it she ended up sleeping on the pillow. A few months later, I had her spayed since I was not sure whether staying or going back to Norway. Thirty years later, I´m still here. The dog, I named her Bambi, when an adult sometimes looked mysterious, stole from the basket of the dirty laundry building a nest behind the sofa place by the wall. She spent most of her time there, but after a few days, she forgot all about it and wanted to run in the forest chasing rabbits. I regretted robbing her of motherhood, but my intention was good, had I left her chances of survival would have been better not having a litter to take care of in an unfriendly world.