March 13th, 2011
Lament of a Stud Dog
My job is making puppies,
and I get two tries at that.
They pat me and tell me “Good Boy”
and that’s the end of that.
It’s half my job to give them teeth,
and top lines, fronts and other.
Remember, it’s only half my job-
they also have a mother.
It’s not my job to carry pups
and make them grow or to nurse them.
And feed and clean and make them strong.
That’s for mother and a person.
It’s not my job to wean them
and feed them calcium and food,
And stack and gait and housebreak
and make them show or brood.
It’s not my job to plan the breeding,
and learn what produces well;
to study pedigrees, learn what’s there,
and pick out what will sell.
It’s not my job to guarantee champs,
the breeder picks the pair.
To make and whelp and feed and show
and hope that champ is there.
It’s not my job to be on hand
when points are given out;
The breeders, owners, dam and friends
take all the credit with a shout.
It’s not my job to deliver a winner
It’s only genes I sell,
But let those puppies turn out bad,
and guess who catches HELL!