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Tiffie's bad hair day


They are taking you there today,
To that place,
That tearful, horrible place
Where you shall be changed forever.
They will shear off your soft puppy hair,
Leaving only that stiff course stuff
That does not yield beneath petting fingers.
Your hair was so soft,
Bouncing when you walked,
Causing you to look even cutier,
Even more like a dust rag.
But now I next see you,
You shall be different:
Not soft and young and playful,
But older, rougher, aloof,
Abandoning your enthusiasm and exuberance
For sleep.

And I alone bemoan your loss.


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