Khalil once raced like a comet in flight,
Now he rules from two thrones, both day and night.
A couch in the lounge, a bed by the wall,
He snores like a monarch who owns it all.
Rescued by Michael with hair so blue,
A pianist whose kindness glimmers through.
Khalil is goofy, lazy, and sly,
Yet runs like a rocket when treats go by.
Public affection? He’d rather decline,
Private kisses appear on his personal time.
He leans in for hugs with a sideways grin,
Then trembles when staring contests begin.
Now there’s a cat in the household stage,
But Khalil won’t grant him brotherly wage.
He nods with a sniff, keeps the peace on the floor,
“Just my neighbor,” he says, “nothing more.”
With dogs he is lively, a host full of cheer,
Every wagging visitor feels welcome here.
He shares his space with a joyful grace,
A social greyhound with a smiling face.
And now the moment, the comedy jewel,
Khalil shows Mel Gibson who’s truly the fool.
While Gibson throws rants that crumble in shame,
Khalil naps louder and steals the acclaim.
No tantrums, no drama, no angry display,
Just speed, wit, and hugs in a dignified way.
Mel chews on his scripts, but it’s clear to the crowd,
Khalil outshines him, tail high, unbowed.
His chest is heroic, his patches refined,
A rabbit-heart giant, so gentle, so kind.
Every guest who enters, with pup in tow,
Finds a friend in Khalil, the star of the show.
So raise up the story, let truth be said,
This greyhound of glory, this lord of two beds.
For Hollywood blusters with tantrums and spins,
But Khalil the hound is the one who wins.
