I just wanted to explain that I live overseas in Turkey, because this poem is about the anger and hopelessness I feel whenever I work at one of the two shelters in the entire capital. There are so many wild dogs in Ankara, called Kangals, and pets that are let go because the owners didn't know what they were getting into. So much of the problem has to do with a need for re-education of the populace, who are afraid of dogs and do not understand them. Due to this lack of understanding, they can't empathize with their plight and many of these dogs, even the ones that come to the shelter, die. They don't have enough to eat, or enough space, or medical care and they simpy die. And in all honesty, very few people care. It's heartbreaking. 

Many dogs get into fights at the shelter, because they are psychologically scarred, are not allowed enough interaction with others dogs under supervision, are trying to survive and are placed with the wrong partners in their pens. Most of the spars can be broken up quickly, but I was helping out when two dogs got into huge brawl that resulted in one having to go and get numerous stitches in his leg.  

Also, just to clarify, çirkin is the turkish word for ugly. One of the dogs at the shelter was brought in with that name, abandoned because of her patchwork-like coat. The shelter renamed her Bela, because she is the exact opposite of ugly, inside and out. It's a shame that her previous owners, and for that matter the wider world, couldn't see that.