Scoopin’ up the doo-doo from my pooch;
eatin’ so much food, he’s such a mooch.

It’s way too often that he is a setter;
he’s also making my carpeting wetter.
He’s on a pace for felony, such as a
shootin’ of this hound that’s full of poo
movin’ to my Glock, what I might do.

He gets my dander when he goes pee
on top of a turd on my balcony.
The combined odor is quite far from sweet. I’m
ruing that I ever got this pooch—
eats his dumps and then gives me a smooch.
Gross, oh so gross.

I reach the end of my patience one day;
I decide that the time has come to slay.
I’ll put him down and then put him away.
I’ve got a yen to be like the life-end Kristi,
Shootin’ her pet pooch; the gun went “Boom!”
She inspired me for my pooch’s doom.
Go, Colt, big blow!

Scoopin’ hole for snuffed mutt.