LAMENT OF A LADY WHO HAS GONE TO THE DOGS

LAMENT OF A LADY WHO HAS GONE TO THE DOGS

There was a time, there really was, when I was young 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 when I got a certain pup, an erstwhile friend said “Show”,
And so I did and so I do… Oh, what I don’t know!
Once I dressed for flair and style – that was the life don’t knock it,
Now every dress from bad to ball must have a good bait pocket.

I used to have a certain air, I wafted in perfume,
I used to smell like Nuit D’Amour – not 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.

I used to long for furs and jewels and a figure classed as super,
But now the thing I yearn for most is a nice new Pooper Scooper!
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.

While once I spoke in dulcet tones, in pristine prose and frail
I now am using language that would turn a sailor pale.
I adored a man who murmured 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 it is a long one,
The one I routed on the map is invariably the wrong one.
I really love my doggy life – I wouldn’t care to change it,
But when I get that BEST IN SHOW – I could maybe rearrange it.

And when my days on earth are gone I’ll go without much nudging,
Just give me three weeks closing date – and let me know who’s judging!

by Berle Allan