Our dog, Sireeno, is scheduled to be neutered on Thursday. A poem to commemorate this momentous, if dreadful, occasion.

I'm dreading the day of the final cut
Betwixt me legs, just under me butt
I don't know how long it will take me to heal
I still have a hard time believing it's real
O, man with the razor, please tell me why
I just want to be like any other guy
What will I do when I get the itch?
What will I do when I find me a bitch?
What can I do when I know she's in heat?
And I've got to tell her I ain't quite complete?
She'll laugh at me, sir, that's what she'll do
How would you feel if it happened to you?
Now I ain't the kind of dog to lay down and beg
And if my mother were here she'd bite your fat leg
But, mister, I ain't ready for this change
I'd rather have tapeworms, be covered with mange
Than to lose these babies, these jewels of mine
I want to be the father of a litter of nine
Nine little puppies who'd look up to me
Proud of their daddy! Proud of me!
But no, to you I'm just buttloads of cash
Ready with your knife, eager to slash
Who told you to do this horrible thing?
Leave 'em alone, sir, just let 'em swing

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