Man’s Best Friend

I have those days when I feel small

And no one knows I’m here at all;

When people step on top of me

As if my face they cannot see

(Almost as if I am not here,

I do not live, I am but air).

I may be small, I may be white,

But does that mean I don’t feel slights

Against my fluffy, furry self?

Please, please don’t leave me by myself!

I know I’m little - oh, so wee -

And that there is not much of me,

I know that I can’t jump so high

Or reach the table, touch the sky,

Yet if you look into my eyes

I think you’ll find a soul inside.

A soul that is so much like yours

(Even though I walk on fours),

One that sings when it is glad

And one which frowns when it gets sad.

So when you pat me on the head -

Or fluff the pillows in my bed -

I feel so giddy I could fly

And reach the table, touch the sky!

So, really - I think you will find -

There’s little between you and I.

The only difference I can spot

Is one which (for you) ain’t so hot.

It makes my tail just wag and wag:

You carry my poo in a bag.