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| DR. T. P. WHITE D.V.M. Pre 1940 |
| THE OLD TIN CAN I quite agree boys will be boys And I would not alter their joys. I remember when as a lad The pleasure and the fun I had. When they are young and full of vim No one regrets their playful whim. But I wonder why in their plan They must include the old tin can. This rusty tin when viewed as such Is not a thing to enthuse much. It is the butt of stones and sticks; It has been bruised by many kicks. It is the victim of the gangs Who batter it with blows and bangs. One of their antics I would ban-- Tying to dogs this old tin can. Allowed it is but boyish prank, The joke is one that's raw and rank. They should play of some other game That would not bring sorrow or shame. The children mixing in such role Have none of parental control. Their thickened hides I'd like to tan Who tie to dogs an old tin can. |
| JUST WATCH IT'S TAIL There are creatures totally mute, Such as the giraffe and the newt. Others may make some sort of sound In which a meaning may be found. But of the dog one dare not say That it is dumb except its bay. In its lingo speech does not fail, If you doubt it just watch its tail. There is a meaning when it creeps, Another meaning when it leaps. The one, reaction to a cuff Or even to a mild rebuff, The other as it comprehends The kindly greeting of it's friends, Manifesting a joyous hail. So don't forget to watch it's tail. |
| THAT MUZZLE There are in cities and in towns Women and men who ape the clowns. They pass the oddest set of laws, Decrees and such, replete in flaws. They legislate against the beast, The one that bothers them the least. To the canine it's all a puzzle Why we should wear that awful muzzle. We thought the leash was bad enough. To be so checked was rather tough. But now, by gum, we reach the stage When we must don a nasal cage. No one may guess our final plight Unless our friends join in the fight. There is no chance even to snuzzle When we have on that awful muzzle. It interferes with sense of smell. In summer time it's simply--well-- We cannot drink when we are dry No matter how we strive and try. And, gentle folks, pity us, please, We cannot bite annoying fleas. The guy whose gore I'd like to guzzle Is he who invented that muzzle. |
| YOU'RE ANOTHER Go on, big boy, who are you snarling at? If I'd but growl you'd scamper like a rat. I know your type, ready to pick a fight, But in a brawl your chance is not so bright. I've seen of guys, bogus cocks of the walk, And find at last their boasting is all talk. What's that you say, you'll begin a pother? Am I a pooch? Well, you're just another. Come on, big boy, let's see you start a row. It won't take long, I'll settle you and how. I hate to peel off your lean sides the fur, What will I gain in tackling such a cur. But you are warned, you'll rue the final act, You're in danger, don't underrate that fact. To show your fangs you'd better not bother. Yellow, am I? Well, you're just another. All right, big boy, I've waited long enough, Get busy now, begin to strut your stuff. Why, you poor mutt, you basket of stale eggs, You'd simply tuck your tail between your legs. What were those words? I did not comprehend. You'll call it off, you want to be a friend? You will not scrap and you call me brother? A brother, eh? Well, you're just another. |
| CAVE CANEM Ages ago there were of scholars, Educators of note, Wearing whiskers instead of collars To hide a scrawny throat. Demosthenes and Aristotle. They were great pedagogues-- Their ignorance was almost total When speaking of us dogs. They condemned us even in Latin, In questionable creed. In phrases fine and smooth as satin They lambasted each breed. No one was there to up and cane 'em When in their silly dare They wrote the maxim "Cave Canem," Which means of dogs beware. I don't admit that men have altered In all these thousand years. I don't envy all those who faltered To match up with their peers. So much of life has been a puzzle Since this old world began. If I must wear an irking muzzle Why not the same for man? |
| HIS MASTER'S VOICE There is a dog in every town Made out of clay or plaster. With ears apeak and haunches down He hears (?) the voice of master. Inclined towards a massive horn In attitude entrancing, There is within his hopes forlorn A sentiment enhancing. But there are dogs in every town That look upon this phoney As something a kin to a clown-- Expression blank and stony. Said one: " 'tis travesty on death Near bordering the tragic. If he inhailed his master's breath Therein would lie no magic." Into this world of make-believe And ideas pedantic, We're not averse to web and weave Of pictures quite romantic. We may deem odd the given scheme Yet there's of truth a measure, It brings to mind the solemn theme Of loyalty the treasure. |
| THE DOG WATCH I hailed the sailor, ship ahoy, Why wide awake at night, my boy? Tell it to me, my jolly tar, Why keep your eye on evening star? Turn to your bunk, get off your feet And leave the trusty dog on beat. The sailor boy with a heave ho, Pulled up his belt, saying "Yea Bo, You've never sailed before the mast, Keel-haul your joke, belay, avast. There never was a canine hick To spell an old salt at his trick. Someone your lore has tampered with, At sea the dog watch is a myth. 'Tis just the parlance of the deep For one who wakes while others sleep. Go scan with care the old ship log And look for mention of a dog." And so it was as I relate, Vouched for by captain and the mate. The term applies to seamen bold Who by their ken their courses hold. So let us not misunderstand, A true dog watch is of the land. |
| THE BANDAGED PAW I am a sight, a sorry plight, On but three legs I hop. To stifle pain I try in vain, I'm now a busted flop. Upon a time when I was prime, When I was hale and sound. I had the pep, a fighting rep, Until I met that hound. I took his stuff as a big bluff, I sailed in bold and fierce. I missed my guess I do confess, He had of fangs that pierce. In our pluck 'twas nip and tuck, But here's a sincere tip. To get the tuck he had the luck The while I got the nip. My temper test is not the best, My nerves are frayed and raw. I don't deem it much of a hit To nurse a bandaged paw. This moody pet I must forget And pretend to be gay. Some other mutt that is a nut Will no doubt pass this way. |
| THE RATTER I live out in the countryside Where life is of the best. The spaces there are open wide And roaming is my quest. Of game I take a severe toll, The rabbits bear the brunt. Each one stays handy to its hole When I'm out on the hunt. Now as a pest upon the farm There are rodents galore. To our flocks they do much harm, They kill chicks by the score. I got my name on this basis, That they are rats by caste, And that I am their nemesis, A ratter bold and fast. I can't say I like that nickname But still it's lots of fun. To me it's just a sporting game To see the nibblers run. To slay all members of the bunch I very seldom miss. A snap, a bite, a final crunch And that's the end of this. |
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| DR. T. P. WHITE D.V.M. Pre 1940 |
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