Oh, Greg. That was ruff.

When I walk my dog I like to listen to Pooch-ini on my i-pawd.

I took my dog to a training class once. One guy, instead of petting his dog when he obeyed, sang, "Whippet Good!"

Just beagle-ad it's over. If you remain upset then the terrierists will have won.

Dachsun off.
Looking Dachsun.
Dachsun, but I believe she left a daughter.
Both of whom was not/never will be dogs.
But the first Smith threw herself
And was fed.
Fresh meat to the paparazzi.
Some were airheads; I mean airedales.
Others were Afghans who hounded her.
At times they even Terrierized her.
Yet they didn't seem to bother her about her A-kid-a until ANS was Mala-mute.
Those American Bulldogs, which I will admit she looked for a time like a bulldog too.
It must have been those Eskimo Pies, which are the Pits if you are trying to diet,
Stasfforshire. Spanieling on water, as if she were an Anatolian Shepherd, with her flock,
Dogtling in Australia with her Basse[n]et[t], bearded cause she shaved as a young girl
to impress the Bloodhounds or Bluebloods, I can't remember.
Barbara Boxer was an interested party, "Geehuahua!" I know, but then the Boxer has always been a Sharpie,
A bit like ANS at the dinner table: Chow Chow.
Which I know we've beaten these dogs to death, and I should Coolie it.
It turns out ANS was a Doll Martian,
Who got Pinchered by the boys.
There were English Cockers and Flat Coat Retrievers at the door.
Some where German, others just had Golden Hair.
I believe there was a Great Dane, who came in a Grayhound, joined by a Havanese.
And some Irish guy who had to wolf down his breakfast as the bus was outside.
Another was too busy labradoodling on a pad in the car seat to see that ANS
Had Mixed Breed her feelings about the arrival of all these dogs and
Called it a Horse and Pony Show.
People were Pekingese over the fences.
Some were Pomeranian with long sticks over the Ivy-laden walls just to get a Poodle?
Some Rott-weilered they waited outside.
There were those who were Saints named Bernard and still another who
Took to Tree Walking. I believe her name was Vizsla. She was a good sport: Golden shorthaired and wiry, full of energy, affectionate, easy to train, eager to please, smart, intelligent, loyal, sensitive and a quick learner. I liked that she loved field sports and if I was consistent but gentle she'd take to corrections. Vizsla loved children and other dogs, but boy how she would bark at strangers. Sometimes she would Weimaraner at them like a Yorkshire Terry.

In all, this post has gone to the dogs. I need a Dauxenation, if you know what I mean.

Get with the times! It's not Dachshund anymore, it's Nissan!