The runt of the litter
Had no sense and no speed
To get out of the way
The sun had warmed the strip
A family enjoying the heat
The plane approached, circled
Enticing the animals away
Mother ran, siblings ran
But Dunlop was too slow
A wheel, with Dunlop tyres
Glanced the then unnamed cub
Who now acquired a name and a limp
The airstrip boss
Took pity, amazingly
Gave succour to the injured
Milk from the bottle
A mat on the floor
Some hope to get better
But warthogs don’t belong
To bricks and wood
They’re not renowned
For reciprocating care
Preferring to mess up the place
He had to go
Now here is the rub
What is most delicious
For the waiting wild dog
Hyena, cheetah or even lion
A tasty four-legged steak
That has not learnt to run or fight
Rock and hard place, nowhere to hide
Dunlop wanders off
Into his own sunset
Phinda Lodge, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, March 2006
