In my imagination,
I’m tall and really fit,
and people all around me
think I’m quite a wit.
I drive a car that’s really fast!
I’m handsome as can be,
and cause I am so wonderful,
most wish that they were me.
Those things, of course, can’t happen,
but still I have a lot —
a warm bed and a bone to chew,
cause I’m a dog named Spot.
The Lonely Meatball 
I didn’t see that coming!
I’d like to be tall too…
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I’m glad you didn’t see it coming!! I sure wouldn’t mind be taller myself.
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Ha, I thought the poem was about me until the end.
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I have to admit, you did inspire it. 😊
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All the better🤣
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Ha, ha! Good one! I’m with Margy: I didn’t see that coming. As for being tall? I used to be tall. It was OK. . . .
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I love it when people don’t see it coming!
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This was great and I’m with everyone else, I didn’t see it coming. It did remind me of an old Far Side cartoon where these two guys are looking at a dog curled up on a rug asleep. The dog is saying, “And then I caught this 200 lb. cat and really kicked its butt…Once I drove my master’s car…I can outrun a greyhound…I can bark in seven languages…” And the one guy puts a hand on the other guy’s shoulder and says, “Edgar! Leave him be! … Always best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
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