No way did I posses the energy this week to present you with lines of wit and insight. My brain has finally regained some sort of solid state having previously melted to the point that it oozed out my ear. I woke up one night in a panic, a giant wet spot of what I can assume is only brain or brain lubricant all over one side of my pillow.
It was the puppies.
My mother and I have a sort of business going together. A kennel. We breed and show one of the smartest most entertaining breeds I have ever met. Schipperkes. Yeah, that’s skip-er-key. They’re little black barge dogs hailing from the country of belgium known well for their eh, barges. And flag that closely resembles Germany. Yes.
They’re also known for beer, chocolate, waffles and female tennis superstars: Justine Henin-Hardenne and Kim Clijsters. I just checked the fact book.
Now that you’re sufficiently dazzled, allow me to continue.
So we have puppies. Six of them in fact. We had known about four from the ultrasounds we had done pre-birth but apparently she had been hiding two somewhere. The Vixen tells me puppies can hide pretty well amongst ribs. I’m still on the fence about that.
The mother, the perpetual pain in the sitting muscle that she is has yet after five days to start producing milk. Thus each of them must be fed by hand using a small bowl of puppy formula, baby rice cereal and a pippet. It makes me feel a bit like a giant chemist to be honest.
Every two hours on the hour or around the hour they need to be fed which led to small bouts of sleep interrupting my night the past since monday after work. It has led to a loooong week. As if all the piles of overtime weren’t enough. But hey, it’s a blast. I love doing it and was well aware of the responsibilities that were attached to the job.
I had posted a brief blurb about it. I think. I’m pretty sure I did. (Checking the iPhone indicated that yes, I did indeed) I was so tired when I wrote it. It’s as if Monday through Thursday just bled together into one long super-day in which only brief naps were offered.
The Vixen, who was the first to say “Hey, let’s get over there and help out!” couldn’t even stand against such long hours unscathed. The children made it out okay but she was another story being bombarded with allergies most likely caused by the dust clouds she kicked into the air while trying to figure out the workings of the vacuum cleaner. Or perhaps it was caused by the non stop orgy of flora that surrounds my parents home seemingly without regard for the time of year.
It’s anyone’s guess.
That is, I must admit, one of the greatest thing that I got out of our four-day sleep over to help with the new ones. The fact that the Vixen not only said absolutely to visiting but that she was about the first to suggest it. Little things go along way. This is one of the most important. Focus on family is paramount.
That and I love a girl you take out to eat and forsakes the salad for the biggest,juiciest piece of steak available.