My Very Own Pet

At the pet store,
Heading for the door,
I beg for my very own pet.

Dad says, "Move along."
Mom hums a song.
"I'm not leaving," I threat.

They continue to walk,
In the aisle I balk,
I am spitting mad.

They say, "No,
It's time to go!"
I feel horribly bad.

I scream, "I need a pet!
Furry or wet!"
Mom and Dad don't care.

"All I want is a dog,
A bird or a frog -
It's just not fair!"

I make a quick move.
I've got something to prove -
The exit door I block.

My case I present,
Mom starts to relent.
Dad says, "How about a pet rock?"

It's not a dog
Or a bird or a frog,
But what am I to do?

I know it's not the same -
A pet rock is pretty lame,
But at least it doesn't poo.