Lyrics
Puddle-stomping, mud-making, water-loving hound;
Why do I put up with you?
I should return you to the pound!
Other dogs wear ribbons
and perfume in their hair.
You roll yourself on old, beached fish;
Life really isn't fair!
Other dogs drink daintily,
gently lapping when athirst.
Not you, you sloppy, rotten mutt;
You plunge right in, headfirst!
I brush, I comb, I wipe those paws.
I just can't win this war.
You stink just like a big, wet dog.
I can't take it any more!
Puddle-stomping, mud-making, water-loving hound;
Why do I put up with you?
I should return you to the pound!
Along comes good, ol' Deborah Lee;
Optimist or fool?
"Behold the joy of water sports!
Take this darling to the pool."
The pool, the beach, the lake, the stream,
If Deb didn't pack a Glock,
I'd show her where to stuff her oar.
She'd be in for quite a shock!
I stand, neck-deep, in water,
wet clothes clinging like an anchor.
My puzzled dog looks back, all dry.
Behold my dripping rancor!
Puddle-stomping, mud-making, water-loving hound;
Why do I put up with you?
I should return you to the pound!
Let's go, you mutt; I'm waiting.
Go on, get wet and swim.
You make a liar out of me.
I'd like to throw you in!
"Feel the love, embrace the joy.
Chase progress, not perfection."
Deb urges me to click and praise,
and shape the right direction.
Today you watch; tomorrow wade;
Then float in your life vest.
Come swim, go shore, spit out the frog!
Then take a little rest.
Puddle-stomping, mud-making, water-loving hound;
You aren't so bad, now are you?
I may just keep you around.
Eventually the day has come;
this dog has learned to follow.
Or maybe I'm the one who's learned.
That's a lesson, hard to swallow.
There's beauty in that soggy mutt,
of that I have no doubt.
Shades of Greg Louganis,
Esther Williams, and a trout!
We boat, we swim, retrieve and tow;
such fun I might have missed.
This dog I used to gripe about -
It's taken quite a twist.
Puddle-stomping, mud-making, water-loving hound;
You aren't so bad, now are you?
I may just keep you around.
Now I sneer at fluffy dogs,
all prim and clean and white.
Then I smile at my water dog,
and beam with true delight.
It's said that dogs reflect our soul,
whatever it is that means.
Truth be told, I've always liked to play
outside in dirty jeans.
Perhaps this mutt's unchained me,
freed us both to have our fun.
My kitchen floor's still muddy,
but in the end, I know I've won.
Puddle-stomping, mud-making, water-loving hound;
What would I do without you?
I cherish what I've found!
