The Retired Show Dog
He sits to the side, out of the way While others beg head rubs, or force you to play.
His dark liquid eyes watch your every move Hoping and waiting, his love to prove.
He was shown many times, a promising pup And he just got better as he grew up.
A picture of health, robust and strong, His gait and topline, never went wrong.
But his prime has passed, and he seems to know, That he'll never again be put in a show.
He eats, he sleeps, not much more than that, And maybe he's getting a little too fat.
He loves to be brushed, when you have the time, He waits for his turn at the end of the line.
You think of him, sure, but not nearly as much As those promising pups, that new special and such.
So he sits and he waits, til you have the time, To make the same fuss as you did in his prime.
A scrap of affection, or playful shove, To him it means everything, to him it means LOVE!
Back to Poem index