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I wrote a dog poem sometime back,
It mentioned dogshit, know what,
someone from the enlightened West
objected to the word, as he thought
it downgraded our canine lot
The suggestion was to write poop
I dunno how that would help
As long as the thing still stinks
As bad as one can think
Well, in our gated community again
Someone found some poop this morn
On the concrete tiles of the lawn
Investigations soon began
And an expert thought aloud
It wasn’t a pet’s poop
But a stray one’s drop
How he smelt it we know not
Yes, there is a gap in the community wall
Through which perhaps a friend had crawled
Into our domain when nature called
Manners then didn’t matter at all
I believe I had a fleeting glance
Of this stray friend of ours two days back
It is a she, if I am right, and indeed a beauty
As all Indian dogs are famed to be
Whose eyes are mostly mascara-lined
Where else in the world so lovely canines be
A contrast to hairy creatures known as puppies,
Beastly dobermans, punks and the like
Oh, how much I wish
Any pet lover from our midst
Adopted this beauty
So she has an official trustee
To pick and dispose of her poopy
God bless our stray dog community!
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