Dog breeder's husband

I'm just a dog breeder's husband

I no longer rule my domain.

Even if kindly invited

from opinions I wisely refrain.

 

I'm just a glorified kennel boy

Of minor importance I know.

It seems my primary function

Is merely providing the dough.

 

Now dog breeding's not inexpensive

as you all no doubt are aware.

But the problem's not so much the money

as the bustle, the wear and the tear.

 

Having studied the layback of shoulder

and becoming an expert on feet

I still have not learned to give worm pills

or how much the puppy should eat.

 

My spouse will spend hours grooming

her Bred By Exhibitor bitch

but when it comes to scratching my back

her thought is to let the thing itch!

 

Someday I hope that my wife'll take me

wandering to some foreign vale

instead of inspecting the stifle

of some Special stud at Hinsdale.

 

Off in a crowded motel room

after the dog show is o'er

someone questions the judges decision

while they reach for another drink more.

 

It appears that his eyesight is failing

his errors in judgment immense.

In fact, if I did not know better

you'd doubt if he had any sense.

 

One finds that the amateur's bungling

is no match for professional skills.

A handler can hide what the owner admits

as he tries hard his conscience to still.

 

The din and the utter confusion

of everyone talking at once

leaves one weary, hoarse and irascible

and the next day a bleary eyed dunce.

 

Sometimes late in the evening

I'm asked if I do not agree

that Pottowattamie's Bridget

is somewhat out at the knee.

 

But before I can answer the question

I find my answer ignored.

For some inexplicable reason

my questioner's suddenly bored.

 

I'm only a dog breeder's husband

not that I mean to complain.

But I find certain aspects amazing

when I aspire my role to explain.

 

I know at least where I am going

I'm rapidly going to seed.

But I've learned all about Winner's Bitches

I married the Best of the Breed!

 

(Author unknown)