Janet Jenkins-Stotts: Ballad Of Little Bit

The smallest of four mini-goats,
The runt who rarely reached a teat,
We bottle fed him on the porch
So that he got enough to eat.

Our big dogs didn’t seem to mind,
The gentle Labs let him cuddle.
He bleated whenever the big dogs barked
His identity a muddle.

Each time our neighbor’s truck went by
Hauling hay, one big dog and rust;
Our three dogs barked and chased it,
He bleated and ate its dust.

He roamed the farm with the big dogs
Folks laughed and thought it great,
Till he developed a taste for roses,
And that, folks, sealed his fate.

Now his days as a dog have ended;
He is penned up with other goats.
While the dog in our neighbor’s pickup,
Sits in the back and gloats.