Puppy Diaries, Pt. 3

How lucky I am to have a puppy
who chews through four beds in a week 
and jumps on every couch and off three walls
as I stupidly try to catch him
or distract him.
Or was it five beds?
I don’t remember.

How fortunate I am to have a puppy
who, after spreading kibble all over the tile,
rolls onto his back in the lamplight of the living room,
holds a toy above his head
and munches it
until he munches me.
How tired I am while watching him 
make a dust storm in the backyard while he zooms,
then lunges into the house at full speed,
spins in a circle
and aims to teeth his tail
before noticing the water bowl from which
he drinks too much too quickly,
dribbles a quarter of it on the kitchen floor
then throws up in the family room five minutes later.

I promise that we try to hold him back
but he has zero manners with guests
and wants to bounce into and off them
because he sees people as prey for play.
So - sweaters are pulled at wrists,
pants are bitten at ankles,
toes of children are chomped,
legs and waists are pounced,
and paws are used to karate chop
as a long tongue hangs out his mouth
like wet, slobbery, pink taffy.
And he looks like he’s laughing
as all we can do is spend six hours a day training him,
only for it to feel like sometimes he hasn’t learned a thing.

But honestly, I truly am lucky,
for he makes my world smaller, more humble, less lazy.
In the yard, we soak in sunlight
when he’s not eating rose bush thorns, pinecones, or peach pits.
At night, I find constellations
as he marches me into the diamond-lit cold.
He is work, chaos, love, and learning,
and just as the craziness in the world won’t stop,
neither will he,
and thank god 
that sometimes
I have something other than politics to focus on.