Mutterings

Your doggie, it occurs to me,
Leads such a life of ease;
His greatest purpose seems to be
To exercise his fleas.

At night, the town insomniac,
Just nothing starts him yapping;
But daylight’s kleptomaniac
Is safe, because he’s napping.

Each morning finds you on a leash—
He takes you for a run.
We all need exercise-—but sheesh!
You really call that fun?

You hurry through my tiny yard,
But first he stops a minute;
And now it's getting awfully hard
To walk and not step in it.

I'm sure you're rushing to defend
Your dear, beloved canine.
For you, he may be man's best friend;
But as for me, he ain't mine.

                                  —O. Nonymous

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