Obedience School

They said he had to go to school,
I’m sure an empty threat.
He’d heard this warning many times.
They haven’t sent him yet.

You know the kind of school they mean,
the kind to set him straight.
That’s just the school that he would fear,
the kind that he would hate.

‘Obedience’ is what it’s called.
Well, how could that be fun?
No, it would be the end for him.
He’d rather play and run.

He’s not a bad dog all the time.
He doesn’t bark or bite.
Well, he may take a little nip
if he’s not feeling right.

And, yes, he chased the FedEx guy
but that was his own fault.
He’d growled and told him not to come
but that guy didn’t halt.

And then there was that chewed-up rug,
in pieces all around.
Well, he was bored and there it was,
the first thing that he found.

It could have been much worse, you know.
It could have been a couch.
Or maybe that new purse of hers
with money in that pouch.

So when he goes off to that school
he’ll bring a friend or two.
Those helpless folks who live with him
could use some learning too.