He had a dog, part-wolf, Whose hunger was epic, As his family had little to eat.

It had been weeks Since they had meat, More than a carnivore could bear.

So they collected wages To calm their craving.

Upon the block, his family watched The Butcher stuff hot dogs, And decided on one each.

Mother carried the paper package In her coat, and unwrapped It in the kitchen.

Imagine Part-Wolf’s suspicion At the scent of fresh meat. Mother took the plate away.

Her trip to the hot plate Was smooth, so much that She slid and the meat flew

Up and into the eye Of Part-Wolf’s teeth, Snap and swallow, before

A scrum or tug-of-war. So went The meat drought, Along with the Depression,

Until it didn’t matter What dog they ate.