My job is making puppies
And I get two tries at that
They pat me on the head and say "Good Boy",
and that is that.
It's half my job to give 'em
teeth and toplines, fronts and other,
Remember, it's only Half my job...,
they also have a mother.
It's not my job to carry pups
And make 'em grow and nurse 'em
And feed and clean and make 'em strong
That's for "mother" and a person.
It's not my job to wean
And feed the calcium and food
And stack and gait and housebreak,
And make 'em a "showing" brood.
It's not my job to plan the breeding,
And learn what produces well,
To study pedigrees, learn what's there,
And pick out those to sell.
It's not my job to guarantee champs,
The breeder picks the pair,
To mate and whelp and feed and show,
and HOPE that the champ is there.
It's not my job to be on hand
when points are given out.
The breeder, owner, dam and friends
Take credit with a shout.
It's not my job to deliver a winner.
It's only genes I sell.
But let the puppies turn out bad,
And guess who catches HELL.
PS - don't know who the author is, but I have always loved this poem. Hope you will enjoy it too.
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