A Brute

I just walked my dogs,
through the well-dressed trees.
where met a man of sorts,
who made me hide with in the leaves.
Louse he seemed.
In a bright red coat he walked the path,
With a colossal brute upon his knee.
Its deep grey fur,
well, it wobbled and loomed,
Swaying majestically.
This brute moved however he please
Like a wolf, of sorts, so you think.
But no,
No,
It is not a wolf,
a bear, a brute.
It’s a dog, a chow.
Buddy by name.
A fluffy ball,
Lovable and tame.