I Can't Find the Identity of this Poem's Author, but My Petunia Believes that S/he Has an Exceptionally Intuitive Soul.

 

The Half-Breed

They call me a Boxer,
But I'm a Half-Breed.
Part Boxer of course,
and part people indeed.
Anyone who owns me knows it's true.
We're so close to being people,
we're like part of you.
"He's one of the family,"
you've heard people say.
"Don't know how we'll manage when he passes away."
But they'll get another Boxer,
a purebred at first.
Not the most well-behaved puppy,
but far from the worst.
Then the change will take place,
the same as before.
They'll end up with the same human
Half-Breed once more.