Our dogs are both a mess, we know,
Their characters created
By lavish love and very little
Discipline they’ve hated.
“We are beautiful!” they say,
“And therefore do no work.
It’s your job, oh bipedal ones,
To serve our every quirk!”
And so we let them get up late
And go to bed at any
Time of day or night, be fed
Their treats; their toys are many.
Their big brown eyes can overcome
All anger on our parts –
One sweet, sad look and we succumb,
Our minds ruled by our hearts.
They are a mess, we must confess,
But lest it be forgotten,
They fit our household perfectly:
I, too, am spoiled rotten.