Every living creature, one time or another, aspires to being 'different'.

It once was my pleasure
to meet old geezer
who called himself, Lizard,
but I got his gizzard.
"Sir, your tail is Dragon."

He turned a little green
and his breath flamed, the fiend,
"Your wagon is draggin';
don't dare insult mine--
I think my butt's divine."

"You would! But you've spikes, yikes!"

His amber eyes narrowed--
flung anger like arrows.
"I have you in my sight."

He sounded threatening;
I heard my voice rise, ring.
"Sir, your tail 'IS' Dragon."
Was I foolish to tease?
Why not be quiet, appease?

"I dislike lion's!"

"You'll need some surgery
to redo your tail . . . like me.
I am merely a cat."

The Dragon picked me up,
in a hat, I was stuffed.
"Now you're 'Cat In The Hat'."

Then . . .
he opened me . . . and read.