Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA
Dear Mr. Toerag,
Your cruel words about my husband make my sad eyes wince.
I'll have you know I love him and I treat him like a "prince".
When he comes home dog-tired from work from killing all those bugs
He doesn't want to wake me so he just sleeps on the rug.
He may not be a Doberman but he's no kind of hound
I'm proud to say he's of a breed that I have seldom found.
He'd never dog around on me. He's always within reach
Our marriage vows are quite enough to keep him on a leash.
He's my good Shepherd, guarding me and right there at my side,
Bulldoggish in his best attempt to keep me satisfied.
There's not one hair on him I'd change, albeit, I suppose
It WOULD be nice if some nights I didn't feel that cold nose!
Whenever he howls at the moon, well, I know what that means.
I don't need to be asked twice to get out of my jeans!
And when he gives that puppy look and whimpers "Honey, please...."
I open up my blouse and say, "OK, 'deer, pickinese!!!"
No mutt my man...a greyhound heading for the finish line
Is how I view my lovemaking with that sweet man of mine.
I only wish he didn't reach the finish line so fast
But, like the champion he is, he'll never finish last!
He's told me about Toerag, the cur, the leader of the pack
With all the social graces and the qualities you lack.
Don't chase me, boy. There must be something else that you can do.
I'm living with the Big Dog, not a litter pup like you.