Written by Hank Card
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I know that day you left you said "Let's never talk again,"
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But I'm not calling for myself, I'm calling you for them.
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Our little ones who wait at home are broken and upset,
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And though they don't remember much, they can't seem to forget.
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The dogs, they really miss you. They're diff'rent since you said goodbye.
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They brood, they pout, they feel put out. If they could speak, they'd tell you why.
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They're too down to move about, they hardly touch their meals.
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The dogs, they really miss you, and I know just how they feel.
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Their tails don't wag, their hearts won't heal, they blame themselves that you're astray.
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They're sorry that you felt tied down and never learned to stay.
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Molly's nose is warm and dry since she sat and watched you pack.
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She figures that you must be lost and can't find your way back.
(Instrumental break)
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And Scooter's just a basket case, he won't accept my calls.
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His squeaky toy lies silent, he's lost interest in his balls.
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The dogs, they really miss you. They're not themselves since you're not here.
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They sleep all day, watch TV all night, they drink way too much beer.
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They've seen Old Yeller 40 times, they bathe less than they should.
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The dogs, they've stopped their poker game hoping you'll come home for good.
Tag:
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You know how they hate to beg, but the dogs are really blue.
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The dogs, they really miss you, and you know that I do too.
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Wrow, wrow, wrow, wrowwwww!
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