Iams® fed to my mongrel, immobile, feeble, lethargical.
Hope Fido ain't filching my pillbox filled with Phenobarbital.
He's quaffing quarts of water and he's hotter than a cheap pistol;
He feels ferklempt; I'll take his temp, unexempt from this epistle.

I grab the paper, the piece on which he ain't peed or shat his fill.
Some food pouches for pooches might poise problem: poison. . .rats to kill.
He howls; I scratch my brow and I avow that this is awful news:
It's filled with rat-killer in addition to swill of offal juice.

It's filled with milled rat pills that kills our pets, who's filled with craw-full ooze.

We used to worry that this cur would hump or jump or crap on us.
At first, we had quipped: was it beer he sipped? Perhaps he's crapulous.
Sacked on the sofa, soma phlegmatic from Phenobarbital?
Once insolent, now somnolent, silent 's a freakin' Barbie doll.

Sacked on the sofa, soda-cracker-white is each lolling eyeball.
Though somnolent, still redolent stench vent from which pendant pies fall.

We'd take him to the vet, get him vetted by docs with care of dog.
If he's soppin' up sauce, I'd josh, "He's sloshed and needs some hair of dog."
That was before I pored over abhorrent reports. . .made me cuss;
I used to let him lick my lips; now, frankly, I'm afraid he'll buss.

When he was in the pink, he'd drink from the sink, then he'd often pee
Upon the rug, but I'd just shrug, 'cause those shmutz smudges. . .often me.
It stopped--no need to mop; he simply flopped, then no more piss galore.
I was cur-worried. . .left the set. . .Mets fete--I'd bet yet missed the score.

I called the vet, left the hall wet, 'cause when I went I spritzed the door.

I drove to the doc's office, and the dog was looking too forlorn;
A traffic jam delayed my scram, and I was forced to toot more horn.
I finally raced into the place and brayed, "This mutt needs medical
Attention!" then I mentioned everything he'd had that's edible.

He mused, "Hey, dude, do youse peruse a source of news?! Incredible!
Or slog through blogs 'bout dogs? Youse out to be shot, thoughtless imbecile!"

Under duress, I was quite stressed, the result, I was babblin';
To calm me down and quell my qualms, the dog quack started dabblin'
In his pill chest until he'd guessed that ketamine was where it's at.
I downed a dose. . .down, comatose. Then vet was mean, keened "scaredycat."

He started pumpin' the pup's tummy; it was pure mutt plumbery;
Meanwhile, a soporific smile did grace the face of slumb'rin' me.
'twas ketamine, not melamine, that cerebrally flattened me.
The tummy pump all done, the pup jumped up then sat 'n' shat 'n' peed.

He carpet-bombed with such aplomb, dog-doc glommed on a fattened fee.

It then fell to the fellow to unmellow and make sentient me--
He'd feed me coffee, tea, and speed. Then he decreed most trenchantly:
"Hey, sport, this crapping animal is better, and he's spent his fill
Upon my rug; he needs the drug I've lettered. I'll have sent a bill."

I let my pooped pooch give a smooch; he pooped, I scooped negligible. . .
Went to get the scrip filled; pill-pusher's penmanship--illegible!