Friday, May 13, 2011

The Tale of a Piddlin’ Pup Named “Runt”

A farmer’s dog came into town; his Christian name was “Runt.”
No noble pedigree had he, put piddlin’ was his stunt.
And as he strutted down the street, twas beautiful to see
His work on every lamppost, his mark on every tree.

He watered every gateway, too, and never missed a post,
For piddlin’ was his specialty and piddlin’ was his boast.
The city curs looked on amazed with deep and jealous rage
To see a simple country dog, the piddler of his age.

Then all the dogs from everywhere were summoned with a yell
To sniff this piddlin’ stranger o’er and judge him by his smell.
Some thought a king he must be, beneath his tail, a rose.
So every city dog drew near and sniffed it up his nose.

They smelled him over one by one, the smelled him two by two.
While noble “Runt” in high disdain stood still till they were through
Then, just to show the whole shebang he didn’t give a damn,
He trotted to the grocery store and piddled on a ham.

He piddled in a mackerel keg, he piddled on the floor
And when the grocer kicked him out, he piddled through the door.
Behind him all the city dogs lined up with instinct true,
To start a piddlin’ carnival and see this stranger through.

They showed him every piddlin’ post they had in all the town
And started in with many a wink to wear this stranger down.
They sent for champion piddlers who were always on the go,
Who sometimes did a piddlin’ stunt or gave a piddlin’ show.

They sprung these on him suddenly when midway of the town.
“Runt” only smiled, then polished off the ablest white and brown.
For “Runt” was with them on every trick with vigor and with vim.
A thousand piddles, more or less, were all the same to him.
So he was piddlin’ merrily with hind leg lifted high
When most were hoisting legs in bluff and piddlin’ mighty dry.

Then on and on “ Runt” sought new grounds by piles and scraps and rust
til every city dog went dry and piddled only dust.
Yet on and on went noble “Runt” as wet as any rill
and left the champion city pups piddled to a standstill.
Then “Runt” did fancy piddling with freehand flirts and flits
Like “doubledip” and “gimlet twist” and all those latest hits.

Yet all the while this country dog did never wink or grin,
but blithely piddled out of town as he had piddled in.
The city dogs a convention held to ask, “What did defeat us?”
But no one every put them wise that “Runt” had diabetes!

This is a poem my grandmother saved many moons ago. I've been busy with my own piddling pup named Porschea! She is a darling and hops around looking like a teddy bear.  I will post some photos soon!  I hope everyone is well and blessed!

Blessings and Joy,


  1. Such a nice story and from your Grandmother!

  2. What a lovely "rememberance" of your grandmother!!

  3. That last line is priceless! Great poem! Blessings, Joanne

  4. Thank you ladies!! My grandma was real special to me and she kept a few writings here and there that amused her. She was not a writer but she enjoyed a turn at the words!

  5. Thanks for the smile. You grandma was quite talented.
    God bless

  6. "Runt, the Piddler" is a poem my mother knew nearly by heart. She would amuse us with it every so often and it never failed to get a laugh. Mom''s been gone for quite a while now, but I still remember 'her' poem. It was nice to Google it and see that others were equally thrilled to read about this wonderful country pup.