Dheera's Workshop of Whimsy

They found it funny beyond a doubt

I recoiled in deep deep shame

Pretending I was suddenly lame

I limped away and licked my tail

Each one in the pack, was a high bred male

A Boxer, Dalmatian, Spitz, a Greyhound

And they had all seen me….

Squat at the mound.

Up until then, I hadn’t ever thought

It was unmanly for a dog to squat

So first they laughed and cried and hooted

Then up they got and in a bunch they scooted

They put their noses in the air

They walked away and left me there

“He who cannot raise a leg

“Deserves to cry and roll and beg!”

I did not cry, I did not beg

I rolled right over and examined my leg

This faulty leg that would not rise

I needed advice from someone wise.

Down by the river, there lived a fowl

Who slept by day and at night did prowl

He had a face like an acidic ghoul

But that didn’t mean he was a bad little owl.

He tapped his beak, he looked quite prim

“Try,” he coaxed, “To raise that limb.”

I tried once again but sadly I couldn’t

I wiggled my thigh, but my leg just wouldn’t

I fell on my nose. I fell on my face

I fell down flop, all over the place

And then…

I squatted once more, against a tree!

The fowl didn’t laugh he just went ‘Cree,’

Deep in thought as he looked at me

“Maybe squatting is just your fate

Develop some talent, to compensate!”

What was I good for? What could I do?

Perhaps I could fly or learn to moo?

I thought and I thought until the end of June

And while I was thinking, I hummed a little tune

One bright night I sat humming on a dune

“Why you’re a musician!” smiled the silver moon.

My academy for musicians is called ‘Tunaloo’

It has a waiting line from the list of who’s who.

Pedigreed doggies want to better their lot

But I have special reservations

For dogs who only squat!