Lament of a Stud Dog

Lament Of A Stud Dog
(author unknown)

My job is making puppies,
And I get two tries at that.
They pat me and tell me "Good Boy"
And that's the end of that.

It's not my job to carry pups
And make them grow or to nurse them.
And feed and clean and make them strong
That's for mother and a person.

It's not my job to wean them
And feed them calcium and food,
And stack and gait and housebreak
And make them sow or brood.

It's not my job to plan the breeding,
And learn what produces well.
To study pedigrees; and learn what's there,
And pick out what will sell.

It's not my job to be on hand
When points are given out.
The breeders, owners, dam, and friends
Take all the 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,
Then guess who catches HELL!