Ice cream cone on my head, less logical then a giraffe. I'm basically a horse with pretty privilege

I prowl, I growl, I stalk, I pounce; I’ll eat your kibble, but may prefer mouse.

With ears that stretch and stubborn will, A beast of burden at the till. Some of my other names may sound quite crass, But it's not my fault that I'm an ass.

Out of sight, in the dark, I can hide in any corner. I eat everything I touch but I’ll wait longer if it’s colder.

I think with my limbs and taste as I roam, Eight wandering minds leave one quiet home. I write in the sand with vanishing ink, Solve doors and puzzles before you can blink. No bones to break, no crown to wear, A scholar of tides with too many hands.