What Baby Puppy Trainers Make

By Shappy Seasholtz

This poem is dedicated
to the guy who said
more people would hear
my puppy training lectures
and specials on the Animal Planet
than would ever a single word
of my poetry.

Thanks for the encouragement,
dickweed.

And I'm writing the poem
that's gonna change the world,
when I hear a tiny paw scritching
at my office door.

And it Puppy Like Pupson,
the recovering snausages addict,
the worst I've ever seen,
and she is standing there,
fluffy tail between her tiny legs.

And it's times like these (like)
that make me wonder why
people even ask me:

Honestly, what do
baby puppy trainers make?
And I wish they hadn't done that,
asked me to be honest,
because I have a little policy
about honesty and ass-sniffing.
If you ask me to sniff it,
I will tell you what it smells like!

What do baby puppy trainers make?

I make puppies sit.
I make puppies stay.
I make a "Bad Dog" feel
like a death-knell,
and make a "Good Dog" feel
like a medal of honor!
I make 'em "whimper whimper whimper"
until they never pee
on my leather couch again!

And when puppies like
Puppy Like Pupson come to me,
I encourage them to bark up
for themselves because
if they don't bark up
for themselves who will
bark up for them?

"Amazing Bark, how sweet the bark—"

Stop in the middle
of a dog hymn everyone knows
and loves, because
sometimes it isn't enough
to BARK with authority,
sometimes you've got
to howl with it too.
"Aw-oooooooooooooh!"