Muscle beneath skin like tempered steel,
Eyes that hold stories of love and fight,
A misunderstood soul carved from grit,
Yet tender enough to cradle a child’s dreams.
They see the power and flinch,
But never the patience—the quiet guard,
The soft whimper when you’re down,
The fierce joy in every reunion.
Not just a breed, but a spirit—
A bridge between strength and grace,
Waiting to prove, again and again,
That love is the fiercest kind of fight.