She is skittish.

Frightened in the car, in her cage.

In her language, she cries out:

“Why are you torturing me?

What have I done to deserve this?

I give you only love, and what do I get in return?

An endless drive to see the witch doctor

who will probe my orifices with sharp weapons.”

And as I feel her terror, I call to her,

“Fear not, it will soon be over and you will be

safe and healthy again, my love!”