I hate rain. Still, they take me out in bad weather. All. The. Time! You'd almost think they bought me especially for this. To get back at them, I always pee a little in their hallway when we get back inside.

In streets where time is money and the clock don’t wait, I move in every shadow, slipping past the gate. I’m the grind behind the glory, the push behind the pay, Name me if you know the force that works all night and day. What am I?

A thread-born guardian, close to your chest, With buttons or collars, it dresses your best. In colors of the rainbow, it loves to appear, A second skin, both far and near.

In a bucket or the ocean, it's futile. But a child might fancy a world Where one of rain is of gum or lemon instead.

Bees love it Seeds grow into it Bake with a homophone of it