SATIVA

I found her in a gutter—or was it by the road?
A place no puppy should ever call home.
Small and shivering, she stumbled through dust,
a beige bundle of fur, cloaked in ticks and mistrust.

Jesse begged, pleaded, vowed she'd care,
Her voice carried promises, heavy with air.
No leash, no collar, no history to bind—
Just a stray, and a thought: She’s ours to find.

June 17th, she came to stay,
A tiny life, beige as dawn’s first ray.
No bigger than the palm of a grown man’s hand,
Yet she filled a void we didn’t understand.

"Mommy" and "Daddy" we called ourselves then,
A family born not of blood, but of when
Two hearts saw a creature too small to fight,
And chose to protect her, wrong or right.

We bathed her, scrubbed her, cleansed her of fleas,
Rid her of worms, made her feel at ease.
Her belly, once empty, now full with relief,
Yet her hunger spoke of a life cut brief.

I sat, rolling my thoughts with trembling hands,
What had I done? Would this life withstand?
The landlord’s rules hung heavy like smoke,
This tiny rebellion, my spirit it stoked.

Then she found my stash—ate it whole!
A ravenous thief with a starving soul.
Jesse laughed as I stared, dismayed,
But in that moment, her name was made.

Sativa, the little rebel we chose,
A survivor, a fighter, through highs and lows.
Her story, like ours, was never quite planned,
But she grew into love, in the palm of our hands.

Though rules were broken, and risks were taken,
In her eyes, no love was mistaken.
For in her, we found a purpose anew—
A family of three, and a bond that grew.

Sativa, the name that stuck from that day,
The spirit of life that never fades away.