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)
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