My dogs not bright

In a garden of pets, my dog took a stand,

They say he’s a cabbage, oh isn't that grand?

With floppy ears and a slow, languid sway,

He lounges all day in the sun’s golden ray.

“Sit, roll over!” I plead with a grin,

But he tilts his head, says, “Where do I begin?”

No flips, no tricks, just that silly old stare,

I bet if he could, he’d be growing some hair.

He lounges like lettuce, so leafy and green,

A pup that’s protesting—oh, he’s quite the scene!

My friends chuckle softly, “Your dog’s quite absurd,

He’s more of a salad than a pup, haven’t you heard?”

But each night when he curls by my side,

I see through the cabbage, the love that he hides.

For who needs to follow a circus-like call,

When a heart that is loyal beats louder than all?