Lament of a Stud Dog

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.

Its half my job to give them teeth and top lines, 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 them grow and nurse them.
And feed and clean and make them strong, that’s for the Mother
And her person.

It’s NOT my job to wean them and feed them calcium and food,
And stack and gait and housebreak, and make them show or 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 what to sell.

It’s NOT my job to guarantee champs, the breeder picks the pair.
To make and whelp and feed and show and HOPE the champ is there.

It’s NOT my job to be on hand when points are given out,
The breeders, owners, dam and friends take all credit with a shout.

It’s NOT my job to deliver a winner; it’s only genes I sell.
But, let those puppies turn out BAD, and guess who catches HELL!!