I feel you should be made aware
Our sweet little Mitsy’s no longer there
In his favorite spot atop my chair
For Mitsy’s no long breathing air.
I’ll miss how he shredded all our plants
His drooling mouth – his raves and rants
His piddling dance – his macho prance
Before he’d hump Aunt Jennie’s pants.
I’ll miss how he would yap and beg
And the puddles where he’d lift his leg
But now my roommate-partner-spouse
Says we need a replacement for that drop-kick louse.
I’ll miss the thousands paid to his vet
He’ll miss our Mitsy, too, I will bet
Good God, we paid that man a lot:
His brand new car and giant yacht.
I’ll miss all Mitsy’s endearing traits
Yet I steal a smile about his fate,
I ‘spose it was timing or just good luck
Mitsty couldn’t out run that garbage truck.