They thought she'd be Sassy,
You'll read she's no Lassie;
So they chose an Isle,
For kin and kith,
Meaning more than breadth and width;
Henceforth she's called Skye.
She's a dimunitive terrier,
She'll not be a harrier;
She'd fall down the holes
Chasing rabbits and voles,
And never be heard of again.
Too quiet for a guard dog,
In the pack, she's no lead dog;
If she tried herding sheep,
They'd bleat in their sleep,
And the sheep would lay down
For the wolves.
She's no sledder like Buck,
She can't carry a duck,
And certainly no fighter like Fang.
She's no Rin Tin Tin,
Can't run fast like him,
And she's not sleek like Roy Rogers' Bullet.
She won't find a body
Buried under the snow,
And she won't win blue ribbons
At any dog show.
But I'm convinced
By her snuffles
She's well worth the trouuble,
I'll take her out hunting
In the woods
For my truffles.
Dog sitting my buddy's Boston Terrier. Terrible how in-breeding has resulted in serious breathing problems for the Bostons.
Incidently, Boston Terriers are superior truffle hunting dogs, and the best time for that is at night. Skye, rocks it at night.
