LAMENT OF A LADY WHO HAS GONE TO THE DOGS

There was 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 do,

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 yearn for most

is a nice new pooper scooper.

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 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.