Tiggy Tiger was my Staffie,
And I loved her more each day,
She made wiggly piggly noises,
When eating or at play,
Tiggy Tiger’s boyfriend’s name,
Was “Sexy to the MAX”,
He was a proud Chihuahua,
Too neurotic to relax,
A virgin … Tiggy Tiger was desexed,
When young and fair,
But Max treat her like a Sex Goddess,
And didn’t seem to care.
Now the one thing that a Staffie needs,
Is a helpful little friend,
Because they’re so thick in the middle,
They can’t reach their other end.
When Max licked Tiggy’s fanny,
He tried hard to do it right,
Because she could easily end his life,
With an angry misplaced bite.
When Max rode Tiggy Tiger’s leg,
She smiled as if to say,
“He’s a funny little dog, Mum,
But he’s definitely not Gay!”
Poor Max didn’t seem to understand,
That he never had a chance,
Even if his legs were longer,
He’d reached the limits of this romance.
There’s a moral to this story,
About the sexual paths we tread.
Unless you please your partner,
Chances are … you’ll end up dead!
I once vowed that I would give anything for my slab to get poured;
Tiggy Tiger died on the day that the slab was poured. I would have rather live in a tent than lose that precious personality.
Be careful what you pray for ~ you might just get it.
I’M WORRIED ABOUT MY DOGS!
This year they had to be micro-chipped by Law,
And with this bloody Y2K bug,
I’m concerned about what Fate holds in store.
At one second past midnight on New Year’s Day,
Will my dogs just go berserk?
Run amok and kill the neighbours,
While I’m on overtime at work.
Will they bark and yelp and howl,
Chase their tails … jump in the air,
Dig up bones … foam at the mouth,
Roll on the ground or scratch out hair?
Will they begin to talk in human tongues?
And tell me what they think.
When and what they want to eat,
And when they want to drink.
Remind me of what fun they had,
When I took them to the beach,
Tell me how they love to go for drives in the car,
Or maybe they will start to preach.
About how dogs’ ways are more civilized,
And how humans complicate their lives,
Because only one dog and bitch in a pack will mate,
Yet most humans become either husbands or wives.
Or perhaps they will be prostrated,
Eyes rolling around in their head,
Unable to chase cars or even bark,
Or put muddy feet all over my bed.
Our dogs’ lives may be under control,
Of these implanted silicone chips,
Which could be infected with a virus,
And change human/dog relationships.
I’m getting an ulcer from the worry,
While my dogs continue to run and play,
All because of that slippery little sucker,
The 2KY … or is that Y2K?
I guess that I will know for sure,
On that New Millennia’s Day,
The answer to these questions,
THE K9 DILEMMA … OF THE Y2K.