Questions Unanswered

At least a dozen times a week
I will hold out my palm, something
generally plastic, mangled into
an odd shape, dented, mutilated
to a good degree, and yet it looks
familiar, and ask my husband,
“What is this?”

He’ll chuckle, look down at the floor
before examining this fabrication of
wonder, and ask the general population
of our home, “Well, what is it? What
was it? Who did this?” No answers.
Six months ago, we would know
who the culprit was,

but now, we have two puppies,
their curiosity streaming all around
our home, enticing them to chew,
gnaw, steal anything left in their path.
We blamed it on teething when
Munchkin, the older one, was young,
back when we counted his age in
weeks, not months.

A floor tripping with toys, he would
hunt out a ball of yarn he’d tear into,
or a pair of shoes left out of the closet –
always Paul’s, never mine, or
his favorite for treasures, the garbage pail.
Never fail, we’d find some reshaped form
of something that was and would never
be again.

And now, 6 months later, we added
Gumball to our family. Round and sweet,
he lives up to his name, but he is ten times
more resourceful than Munchkin. Taller
already, he reaches tabletops and cubbies
not meant for puppy access. He’s also
a bad influence; Munchkin has reverted
to chewing.

So now, the “What’s this?” question
expands to “What was it, where was it,
who found it? Who did this?”.
We can only guess what the garbage men
must think of the contents of our chewed-
up recycle bin.

~ J R Turek
June 26, 2021 Hour 2