Cur

I was a Cur and lived on the street.
Running and hiding, I'd make my retreat.
Eating when hungry was a sweet luxury
But more often than not, it wasn't me.
My ribs pushed through my aged skin,
I didn't realize the trouble I was in.
Then one day, out of the blue
I met a person; not someone I knew.
She took me home on that very day,
Giving me a bath; washing the dirt away.
Having a home and loving company
I knew at last, that I was now free.