This desktop item made a teacher's wife and Persian god king blush. Not a pen or pencil, chalk, eraser, or a brush. Paper tried to hug it once, then let out a curse. But when it tried to cleave the rock, its feelings wound up hurt.

On dogs I’m keen, on elephants grand, sometimes short, sometimes like a hand. I sniff, I breathe, I lead the way, what am I, used every day?

A cat in these would seem quite strange, though on the screen, he proved quite brave. For hiking, work, snow and rain, pull these on before muddy terrain.

I roar like a storm in a tiny room, turning still shapes into swirling bloom. I feast on fruit and veggies too, and only wake when summoned by you.

I'm not a famous baller, though we seem to share a name. Find me in a holler, forest, beach or such in similar vein. Built with haste, oft from waste, and left to fall asunder. But in a storm, to be dry and warm, it's me you huddle under.