Old Possum’s Impractical Doggerel

McMutt, he glories in a tangled skein of DNA,
The spawn of some non-AKC ancestral mating fray,
Part something and part something else, blithely unpedigreed,
A mix-and-match agglomeration, not a standard breed.

One of his ears pricks jauntily, the other one flops down.
His colors are distributed like patches on a clown.
His face is neither sharp nor blunt. His shape’s hard to define;
His every contour’s more a sprightly squiggle than a line.

Your alluring leg ignites his lust to cling and woo it.
His own tail seduces him in circles to pursue it.
Ardently his tongue attends his means of procreation.
Yours likewise attracts his nose for frenzied exploration.

He’s a child’s favorite playmate when he lollops for a ball.
He leaves damp stains on carpets and dead rodents in the hall.
He’s sure his raffish charm excuses every kind of sin.
He loves the pungent fragrance of that stuff he’s rolling in.