Gordy's Mitzi

Dad has a pup curled up still

 in the corner

with a belly full of batteries. 

He quivers no cow herding dreams 

 and only breathes when you turn him on. 

 When the milk barn telephone went off

 he would never torment that cow

 by swinging madly on her tail.  

He doesn't smile for cookies, shed, 

or make a mess. 

This pup's has no ears to anticipate 

the whistle coming from his master, 

no eyes to watch intently

 for the beloved hand

 sweeping towards the calf 

needing separated from the herd. 

Never will he run flat out, belly

to the ground, tongue dripping joy. 

He won't ever beg for food, 

or beg for more of the work

 he was born and bred for. 

This pup won't die with

 sides heaving,

trying to please his master 

whose hand he can't lick.