Unwell This is me today. I’m seeing puppies everywhere. Alexander the Great likes to pop out of the box. I walk into my living room and think I see a puppy on the floor. It’s just a blanket.
I’m talking in my sleep. My husband poked me to turn off my alarm, and I said, “I know”. After he determined I wasn’t going to turn it off, he did. I’d left it in with the puppies. I told him “thank you”. He woke me up at 0715, and I rolled back over and snored, before finally managing to drag my butt out of bed. I guess it’s a good thing I lock my secrets in boxes, because he could be dragging them out of me, and I wouldn’t have a clue.
I’m walking like a punch-drunk pedestrian, in the middle of the road. Yes, I’m tired.
The puppies are on a 3 hour feeding schedule. It lasts 24 and 7. The little guys were ‘t gaining weight. Queen Victoria isn’t making enough milk. I can relate to that, having had twins. She’s finally getting her zip back, and I’m losing mine. I know I ate something yesterday, but I don’t know what. My pill calendar is empty, so goodness only knows when I last took all of those vitamins and stuff. My coffee bar is stocked, but it helps to remember what flavours you’re putting in your latte.
And my captors? I’m about to wake them up. Queen V needs a walk in the grass. They all need to be weighed. And when I look at their milk sodden faces, I cheer up a little bit. It’s hard to let a little 6 oz, blind and deaf litter of pups get you down. They are too cute for my own good.
Good thing that this only lasts a few weeks before they can see, romp, poo everywhere, and most importantly, eat on their own. I’ve survived twins for six years, and this is not my first litter of pups. I do hope it will be my last!