(Luxury, loyalty, and low tolerance for mediocrity)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have a dog named Izzy\u2014he lives a life of flair,
From Port Chester\u2019s bagel shops to Florida\u2019s ocean air.
He lounges like a movie star in West Palm\u2019s golden glow,
Then dashes through the snow-packed trails of Vail, where rich folk go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He rides in a Volkswagen EV, calm as a sage on wheels,
And in the Ferrari, window down, he lives for how it feels.
If I ever fire up the Boosted REV, he\u2019ll jump with pure delight\u2014
That scooter\u2019s made for legends, and Izzy knows his right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He watches me go golfing, tail tucked, eyes full of dreams.
If only he were human, he\u2019d tear up those fairway greens.
He\u2019d have a single-digit handicap, with swag the club can\u2019t match,
And I wouldn\u2019t be stuck golfing with my buddy\u2019s wives\u2014what a catch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Izzy dreams of being human for the perks he\u2019s missing still,
Like flying jets and heckling Trump\u2014oh yes, he\u2019s got the will.
If we saw Trump out golfing, Izzy\u2019d sprint with no delay,
To bite his orange ankle or pee on shoes in bold display.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He loves when helicopters buzz\u2014every time The Donald\u2019s near,
Izzy barks a private anthem: “The sky is mine this year!”
If he were human, surely he would fly and fly with pride\u2014
A pilot’s license in his paw, a bomber jacket by his side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And sometimes when we\u2019re driving, I see that look he throws\u2014 Now Izzy\u2019s got a gripe with me\u2014he\u2019s sulking just a tad, But Izzy won\u2019t go out in some influencer clich\u00e9, Or maybe something louder: Versace fur-lined chrome<\/strong>, So here\u2019s to Izzy, furry friend with dreams both big and brash, And when the world gets quiet and the lights begin to dim,
Like he\u2019s ready for a mission, or a high-speed midnight show.
He stares me down, head tilted, eyes locked and full of fight,
As if to say, \u201cTie your Ermenegildo Zegna<\/strong> around my head just right.\u201d
So I knot the silk with honor, like a general on command\u2014
Now Rambo Izzy rides shotgun, no seatbelt, wind and stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I bought myself a burial plot\u2026 but didn\u2019t think of my lad.
He fears I\u2019ll box him posthumous in Louis Vuitton<\/strong>‘s brown stash,
Tucked beside a monogrammed scarf and Rita\u2019s eyelash trash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Buried like a TikTok pup who brunches in L.A.
I\u2019m thinking Greenwich style, a Herm\u00e8s<\/strong> orange flare,
A box that screams, \u201cThis dog was loved\u2014and knew how to declare.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A tomb fit for a king who barked and made the world his home.
Because if a dog could strut with class and charm and savage sass,
It\u2019s Izzy in the front seat, leaving everyone in the grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With high-end tastes and killer drives and barking full of flash.
If he were human, life would bloom with laughter, golf, and flight,
But since he\u2019s canine, he just waits for wheels to roll each night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He curls beside me, plotting schemes\u2014me and my dog, just him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n