A jingle and a rattle you often hear, In pockets or purses it holds things dear. A ring of guardians, small and stout, Ensures you're never locked out.

Wondrous thoughts bring wonderous gifts yet the one that brings all the meaning to any exchange remains through time

I hiss and spit as I hit the ground running, Slipping and sliding, I just can't get my footing back under me I'll continue to scream until you dump water over my head Or throw a bit of flour right into my face- Jeez, and they call me roux

I love to bark and play all day. Balls and such I fetch with ease, may I have a fish please??

Stripes and galloping in the savannah is my forte and also good and blending in the zigzag mountain