Chump Change

You loved your mangy hound, and fed him treats
From your own plate, making your mother cry.
She didn't understand – neither do I,
But who cares what your stupid, spoiled dog eats?
My dog likes cheesecake and assorted meats,
Which I don't give her. She is table-shy
(My wife's active right foot will show you why)
After a series of hard-fought defeats.

Who said life had to be perfectly round,
Brimful of insights, even free of mange?
It could be cold, delightful, savage, strange,
And death could be the same. Watching the ground,
You find tombstones, making a ticking sound,
Gold-plated tin, reasons to live: chump change.