Cranky Pants

It’s what we call you, Snickers
when your lips twitch with impatience
at the two puppies that hover over you,
them giving kisses and invitations to play
when you have zero interest in them.

Cranky Pants, we know you’re old
and tired, but these two need guidance
from a good boy like you. But still,
you snarl, bark, even nip at them
to get lost, leave you sleep.

They don’t understand your reticence,
race you to your food bowl and win,
easy enough as you take life slow and
languid; there was no need to rush
before these naughty boys got here.

You’ll be 13 in July, same day as me,
and I get it, Snickers; we share a disposition
for impatience, a desire to savor every morsel
gifted without constant frolicking, or singing
a song of glee all hours. But, in all fairness,
I understand their jubilation of a new day,
their celebration of play and exploring,
their need for your love overriding
a common sense they don’t have.
Their smooth tongues on my face,
their metronome tails wagging, lips
curled in smiles bring me joy.

Perhaps in time, you will accept them
as siblings, teach them the ropes you
had a tough learning from older siblings,
help them ease out of puppyhood into
the kingdom of dogdom. But until then,
Snickers, we will continue to call you
Cranky Pants.

~ J R Turek
June 26, 2021 Hour 12