I spend my life hiding below, while only my hair is left to show.

A couple, two of a kind, shoes, socks or scissors. A yellowish-green fruit with a big bottom. And the act of peeling that fruit with a knife.

I may not be man's best friend, but I easily steal their hearts. Long and lithe or squat and stout, my silky fur and great big eyes are my most endearing parts. Fish I crave and mice I hunt, I'll always find my feet with nary a grunt.

I send no letters to the trees, yet every bud appears. The birds return without a map, as though they’ve known for years.

Once one, alwaysssssssssssssssssssss one