(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.