Soft
and gentle, are the snores
that
shake my windows and rattle my doors.
Paws
as big as dinner plates,
smash
my feet like ten ton weights.
Drool that hangs from lips to floor,
I wipe
it off, and still there’s more.
Slingers
high, and slingers low,
where
all they go, I do not know.
When
the TV doorbells ring,
the
pack I have begins to sing.
To the
potty I will go.
With
my entour--age in tow.
When
they grunt and pass their gas,
I pray
the Lord, this too shall pass.
Drool
rags hang around the place.
To
wipe that slimy, drippy face.
When
I’m chilled, they warm my feet.
Mastiff
love cannot be beat.
I think this poem sums all the reasons not to have a mastiff rather well. :P I love the mastiff in their size, but the drool is something I just can't do. I'm going for large sighthounds instead.
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