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We would like to share a poem with you this Christmas written by an adopter.

I wrote this poem a few years ago, on Kyra's first Christmas with us. For those who don't know Kyra's story, I will be brief. I adopted Kyra who had been in a puppy mill for 12 years. When Jean rescued her and 4 others, it was discovered that Kyra had a blood clot the size of a grapefruit in her belly from an injury to her spleen, from being dropped, kicked, or hit. When Kyra came to live with us in Utah, she was much like an autistic child, living in her own world. She soon became a happy girl, and was known for her smile. Kyra died two years later, having filled our lives with much joy and love.

Kyra's First Christmas

My family's getting ready
For a very special day.
I think that it's called Christmas,
At least that's what they say.

The house is dressed in pretty things,
A tree has pretty lights.
I just don't understand it,
But Mom says it's all right.

I've never known what Christmas was,
Althought I've known the cold--
A prisoner of someone's greed
Till I was twelve years old.

My wire cage was filthy,
And my food was often bad.
" More puppies!" they demanded,
Though more than thirty I had had.

Just before this day last year,
In a small Missouri town,
the gift of freedom came to me,
And love was what I found.

I was too scared to know it then,
But soon I'd have a home
And family who would love me--
A soft bed to call my own.

Now I am beginning to see
Though my eyes are growing dim,
THat Christmas is a birthday--
A day to honor Him.

A King who came to earth one night
He left HIs heavenly throne
To save the people here on earth,
A gift like I have known.

He came to save all people
Who were in prisons such as I
He knows their pain and suffering
And for them He came to die.

There were some others staying there
Who brayed and mooed and crowed.
I know He loves the animals,
For that's the place He chose.

And so, because of them
This little prayer is said:
Lord, send someone to save my friends,
The ones still in the sheds.

They're cold and lonely, scared and starved,
And they have no family
To love and feed and cuddle them--
They need them desperately.

So they may know next Christmas
The joy of running free,
That hands were made for loving--
A gift like You gave me.

--DeEtte Anderton
9 December 2000