The S/Washbucklers

The inquisitive recklessness of
the two intrepid adventurers whose
shadows haunt this house is
impossible to stifle. The hairy
black puppies tug and pull and 
bury their muzzles in the food
baskets slowly emptied of contents
into the refrigerator, creating a
vacuum within as they finally
clamber aboard and tumble
into the interior when all that
is left is the tantalizing odours
of the emptied baskets. But oh,
look! the laundry basket, warm
with dryer-tumbled wash creates
yet another frantic diversion as
the tiny tykes schooled well in
mischief race away with socks and
underwear, shirts and tea towels
grubbing and ravaging them
before they're retrieved. There's
something appealing about baskets
and the treasures within, like
those of the dishwasher loaded 
with rinsed platters, pots and pans,
retaining still the irresistible 
fragrance of food, luring the puppies
into a licking frenzy. All in the day
of creatures new to life on their
journey to civilized, sober and
sadly inevitable staid maturity.