Me and the dog had a sandwich for brunch
(Well, for me it was breakfast, for her it was lunch.)
She follows me into the kitchen like glue
Just in case I might rustle up something to chew.
You don’t eat alone with a small dog in tow
And if you forget she will whine so you know
That she’s starving to death, hasn’t eaten in weeks…
Just so you’ll believe her she’ll suck in her cheeks
And manages somehow to look so pathetic,
With puppy-dog eyes that are purely cosmetic,
That there’s no way you’re eating that sandwich alone
Not unless in your breast beats a heart made of stone.
Now that’s bad enough but there’s worse on the menu
The kitchen, of course, is a wonderful venue
For practising how to look thin and appealing
While keeping an eye out for something worth stealing.
She sits there observing…
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