Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run.
He's been here for days now with nothing to do
But sit by the road, waiting for you.
He can't understand why you left him that day.
His legs have grown weak, his throat's parched and dry,
By Christine Hill
He thought you and he were stopping to play.
He's sure you'll come back, and that's why he stays.
How long will he suffer? How many more days?
He's sick now from hunger and falls, with a sigh.
He lays down his head and closes his eyes.
I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies.