Lament of a Lady Who's 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 laguage,
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.

~Beryl Allen

Brilliant