They maul the tender little kittens, too.
And, more especially when they’re young, they think
The world’s their fuzzy ball to nip and chew.
I can admire exuberance, in its place;
A dog who has none is a fat old bore;
But I dislike its wet tongue on my face
And when it wrecks my nylons I get sore.
I’ve known good conversations go to pot
On doggy stories; and I’ve sat and hated
And squirmed with boredom — who, indeed has not? —
When tales of canine brilliance were related.
So I hate dogs. I know, without contrition,
How anti-social is this frank admission.