A crap poem about dogs.

When I go to heaven
I hope Fluffy'll be there too.
She's my closest friend
we're like Shaggy and Scooby Doo.

Her big brown doggy eyes
make me happy through and through.
But when Fluffy gets to heaven
what will happen to her poo?

For heaven should be lovely
clean and fun and super.
It won't be all those things
if I need a pooper scooper.

And it won't be heaven for Fluffy
if she doesn't get to eat.
It's her top favourite pleasure
after licking people's feet.

We all know that a side effect
of eating must be poo,
so I'm hoping that in heaven
dogs will learn to use the loo.

They'll need their own facilities
with special lowered sinks
to keep their paws hygienic
and give them somewhere clean to drink.

So like all canine owners
I expect heaven to take my dog.
I think that's why they die first
so they can learn to use the bog.