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  • Writer's pictureandrew jeter

They'll Do.

(from the NaPoWriMo prompt: write a paean to the stalwart hero of your household: your pet. Sing high your praises and tell the tale of Kitty McFluffleface’s ascension of Mt. Couch. Let us hear how your intrepid doggo bravely answers the call to adventure whenever the leash jingles.If you don’t have a pet, perhaps you know one or remember one who deserves to be immortalized in verse. For inspiration, I direct you to a selection from an 18th-century poem by Christopher Smart, Jubilate Agno, in which the poet’s praise for his cat ranges from “For he is docile and can learn certain things” all the way up to “For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.” Personally, I’m lucky if my cat doesn’t just sleep the day away, but I find her pretty delightful all the same.)[Wasn't feeling it, so here is a rough draft of something.]

We had dogs once, and for a few month

a couple of cats. Before I learned to cook

and manage the kitchen, we had a lot more

mold than we have nowadays. And our friends

are always telling us, “You guys should get another

dog!” And I’m tempted for sure. But there are walks

and food and the inevitable pills and doctors visits

and broken hearts...I want a pet, I do, but maybe I

want the kind that don’t require so much work or

attention? Maybe I want to know that at the end my

ticker won’t skip when they close their eyes for the 

last time.

At our place in the woods, we have squirrels. And

they are really busy. All three kinds—gray, black, and

russet—love to hang out under our bird feeder, the expensive one

with the squirrel baffler on the pole. It’s torpedo-shaped

thing with a spring inside that the russet squirrels

particularly like. Frenetic bobbing seems

to work for them.

They are easy to maintain—we ignore them.

They bring joy—all that bobbing.

For now, they’ll do.

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