The first three letters of diet...

Well, the unthinkable has happened.  I have been deemed overweight.  Actually it's not so much the overweight part that's unthinkable as is the result of such labeling.  My mothers have seen fit to enforce a diet upon me, the likes of which have not been seen.  I'm receiving limited treats (hardly any at all) and am reduced to 1/3 cup of food in the morning and evening.  HOW CAN A PUG LIVE ON THIS???!!!! It remains to be seen.  Equally bad is that Rex and Lily are both on treat restriction too.  And, they know it's my fault.  Now everytime I turn the corner, one of them is waiting to beat the crap out of me.  Though the "Great Pug Smackdown" was a previous past time of these barbaric animals, the frequency has definitely increased. 
At any rate, because I'm a sensitive pug by nature, instead of fighting Rex and Lily back, I snuck off to the coimputer to write a poem about these tragice events.  I hope you enjoy my pain.

Love,
Andy (aka Pug)

Here I sit, a handsome pug
staring at my bowl
It's half empty, almost empty
And it chills me to my soul

Recently it was determined
I'd packed on a pound or two
So my mommies vowed to slim me down
And cut out half my food

And judging by most other pugs
Many are much fatter
I'm just a slightly pudgy pug--
That really shouldn't matter

This new diet is a brutal beast
the restrictions are insane
A pug must eat 8 meals a day
It's required for his brain

And yet, I find no pug snacks
No jerky made of chicken
No food straight from the table
And no more finger lickin'

No roast beef and no cookies
No Newtons made from fig
No sweet treats of piggie's feet
(i'd dance a little jig)

No more peanut butter
Nor trips to ice cream stores
No extra bites of kibble
No seconds, thirds, or more

I am quite faint with hunger
My knees are getting weak
I'm headed towards the light
And I can barely speak

I don't know how I'll manage
Or survive this tragic fate
It's only ten o'clock
(Breakfast was at eight)