Oh wearisome condition of caninity
Born with four paws, forbidden still to bound;
Denied all joys for which I have affinity,
Provided voice, yet not to make a sound.
Why am I made to hunt, to howl, to roam
And yet impelled to share some human’s home?
I am supposed to ask for approbation,
To pant and grovel at my Master’s feet,
To model for my puppies supplication
That they with his approval mayhap meet:
Yet when I watch my Master’s antics, he
Is not the paragon that he’s cracked up to be.
