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Lament of a Lady Who Has
Gone to the Dogs
There as a time, there really was,
When I was sweet and tender;
When Show Dog meant a Disney Star,
and bitch was not a gender.
I went to bed at half past ten;
I went to church on Sunday;
On Saturday I baked the beans
and did the wash on Monday.
But then I got a certain pup,
And an erstwhile friend said "SHOW".
And so I did and so I did
OH! What I didn't know.
I used to dress with flair and style,
That was the life, don't knock it.
But now each dress from bed to ball
Must have a good bait pocket.
I used to have a certain air,
I wallowed in perfume,
I used to smell of Niut D'Amour,
Now I smell like Mr. Groom.
My furniture was haute decor,
My pets a tank of guppies.
Now I've furniture unstuffed,
And well-adjusted puppies.
Once I spoke in pristine prose,
In dulcet tones and frail,
But now I'm using language
That would turn a sailor pale.
I was taught to be well groomed
no matter where I went.
Now all the grooming that I do
is in the handler's tent.
I used to long for furs and jewels
And a figure classed as super,
Now the thing I yean for most
is a nice new pooper scooper.
I adored a man who murmered verse,
through intimate little dinners,
But now the words I thrill to hear,
Are just three-"Best of WInners".
I rise at dawn and pack the car,
the road ahead's a long one.
The one I routed on the maps,
Invariably's the wrong one.
I really love this doggy life,
I wouldn't care to change it.
But when I get that Best in Show,
I plan to rearrange it.
When my time on earth is done,
I'll go without much nudging,
Just give me three weeks closing date,
and let me know who's judging.
-Beryl Allen |
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