Answer:
I run around the streets all day. Under the bed or by the door I sit at night never alone. my tongue hangs out waiting to be fed during the day.
A piece of paper that takes most people 3 or 4 years to get.
I am cracked by Indiana Jones.
I am a mountain at night, meadow at day. What am I?
I'm a word that's hardly there. Take away my start and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?