I want a puppy.
I want it to be fluffy and dark,
I want it to nibble on my fingers, I want it to cry
every time I leave it by itself.
I want it to lick my face and my hands.
When I carry it around town,
I want all the ladies to coo, tut and awe for me
and my little buddy. I want to buy
him new chew toys and milk bones
so he can learn new tricks.
I want a puppy that’ll grow big and strong
so I can wrestle with him.
I want my old neighbor, George, to notice
my pup, along with Marty and
chubby little Peter from across the street.
I’d invite party buses full of famous folk,
like Ben Affleck or Betty White,
then the whole world will know about
my new puppy with the pointy ears
and the soft coat. If someone offered me money
for the cutie, I’ll laugh it off and tell him:
“My puppy, not yours. No sale!”
When he grows to be a big, old dog,
we’ll be the best friends anyone has ever seen.
No one will be able to take him from my side,
not even my old lady.