George’s Dog (in his own words)

I’ll come right out and say it, I’ve made the wrong choice

They’re a big disappointment all ‘round

You would think that a dog who’d had quite a hard life

Would be glad to be rescued by George and his wife

But I’d rather be back in the pound

I’m a very unhappy old hound

For George and his wife, I am sorry to say

Don’t live up to my standards at all

He’s a slob and a boor, and she’s just unpleasant

Their manners and language are those of a peasant

But I exercise damage control

For who else would put food in my bowl

To suggest that canines can be smarter than man

Would seem slightly absurd, I’d concede

But I sit and watch telly, for most of the day

And I’ve picked up a lot, and suffice it to say

My IQ is first-class for my breed

And my quizzing’s a wonder indeed

But the problem I have, let me make it quite clear

Is the way that my mouth is designed

For if I could speak, it would be so much simpler

But all that comes out is a bark or a whimper

It’s all so unfair and unkind

By my dog DNA, I’m defined

So, I settle for what, is so often described

As a dog’s life, but answer me this

Whenever old George is collecting my faeces

Just which do you think is the dominant species

I conclude that the answer is clear

As to who is top dog around here