Before you do anything else, you must check out the video of the Dog in the Blue Sweater. It's hilarious.
It feels like this is all I've done today. I don't know why Walt ever asks me which puppy is in my lap because it's always Harry. Harry will leave a perfectly comfortable warm pile of puppies and come looking for me. I'll be in here in my office and suddenly there is this soft little whine from this tiny little puppy sitting at my feet just looking at me with his head cocked.
"Whine" he will say
I'll try to ignore him, but it will go on longer. I finally pick him up and try to type while holding him, but he's uncomfortable.
"Whine, whine" he will say again.
And naturally, I'm a wimp, so I get up from my desk, go to the family room, get into my chair and let Harry culr up like this on my chest until he falls asleep, which may take a long time (especially if I get engrossed in something on TV!). Eventually I'll move him back to the comfy warm pile of puppies and he'll sleep a bit longer.
He's become this growth, always attached to part of my body.
When I'm sitting in the recliner, with the leg rest elevated, this little head will pop over the top.
"Whine" he will say.
We have now worked it out so that I can lower the footrest a bit, he tries to climb it and I catch him with my feet and then he crawls up into my lap. Tonight I likened it to a newborn kangaroo who has to climb up the distance from the mother's vagina to her pouch before s/he can settle down and rest until it's time to be "re-born" and allowed out of the pouch.
And then there is Diana, whom I started feeding separately from the rest of them because it just seemed that she wasn't doing as well and I thought she wasn't eating enough. So she gets her own bowl in the kitchen, with different (smaller) kibble mixed with human baby food (beef, chicken or lamb) mixed in with it. She seems to have caught up with the others, but when she's hungry, I find her standing in the kitchen, where her food bowl is at supper time, just waiting for me.
The other two are just ... cute. They are affectionate, but not demanding, and they pretty much amuse themselves. The nicest thing is that they are getting fur, finally. It's just little fuzz on their backs, but it has color and you can stroke them and they don't feel like rubbing a raw chicken any more, if you stroke the right part of their body.
No matter how comfortable their bed is, they always
prefer to make a bed on my chair.
Walt had a call from his sister today and sadly, their mother is back in the hospital, unable to breathe again. She had a difficult time breathing when we were down there for Brianna's birthday but had stabilized when we left and we knew it was from the exertion of getting in and out of her wheelchair. It's so difficult to watch her struggle for each breath. I can't even imagine what it must be to be her struggling for each breath.
So our plans are scrambled up again. Walt is probably going to go to Santa Barbara before I do, so he can be with his mother (and possibly drive down with his brother). I'll still go down there on Friday after taking my mother for her pre-op appointments for her surgery next week.
It's starting to look like we may have bookend mothers at hospitals at opposite ends of the state.
Has anybody invented that Star Trek transporter yet?