His Apologies

Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old.

He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled.

But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy knee . . .

Art Thou content with Thy Servant? He is very comfy with Thee.

Master, behold a Sinner? He hath committed a wrong.

He hath defiled Thy Premises through being kept in too long.

Wherefore his nose has been rubbed in the dirt, and his self-respect has been bruiséd.

Master, pardon Thy Sinner, and see he is properly looséd.

Master — again Thy Sinner! This that was once Thy Shoe,

He hath found and taken and carried aside, as fitting matter to chew.

Now there is neither blacking nor tongue, and the Housemaid has us in tow.

Master, remember Thy Servant is young, and tell her to let him go!

Master, extol Thy Servant! He hath met a most Worthy Foe!

There has been fighting all over the Shop — and into the Shop also!

Till cruel umbrellas parted the strife (or I might have been choking him yet).

But Thy Servant has had the Time of his Life — and now shall we call on the vet?