Wondrous

I laugh, say Gumball is helium-filled,
his round and sweet body grows overnight
as though he will be a cartoon canine balloon
in the Thanksgiving Day parade.

Just four months, and he is taller and
nearly outweighs his brother, Munchkin,
who is 10 months old. Gumball’s feet
are like couch cushions, thick-padded
comfort for his bulk, his swagger broadcasts
confidence, his mischievousity beyond bounds
finding every missing pen and pencil, now
trademarked with his razor-teeth imprint.

He is cute, and not just because I say so.
He’s heard it, knows it, and uses it to try
to get away with naughtiness. I worry
that as he gets older, his cuteness will be
shadowed by fear of Pitbulls, a breed dealt
with a bad rap. There is no such thing as
a bad dog, just bad owners. I believe this
with every particle and nuance of my being.

Gumball is part Pitbull, the obvious part,
broad chest, stocky body, his ears still
flopsy-mopsy, boxy head, though he has
bulldog wrinkles and a soft-sloped brow.
His other mixes remain a question mark.

Gumball is white with chocolate syrup
splotches; professionals call it liver but
I prefer dark chocolate on all counts. His
back is butterfly wings on the right, and
on the left, a series of intersecting circles,
like a collage of gumballs on a white table.
He has round splotches on his head, and
remarkable as it seems, he has two perfect
half-circles under his eyes and corresponding
halves on his upper lids. Gumball give kisses
freely; it took some time to see these mysteries
between smoochie, drooly licks.

But his eyes are the greatest miracle of all.
Hazel, clear and gorgeous, the windows to an
amazing soul, rescued from death, grateful to be.
And when I look into those kind wondrous eyes,
I am convinced God has hazel eyes, too.

~ J R Turek
June 26, 2021 Hour 3