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 language, 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