The four-footed one goes from zero to one hundred in a second flat. And the. She can shift back down again in the same time frame. She can cycle back and fourth throughout the day the same way you would flip on and off a switch.
Today has been no exception and it’s why there are green eggs scattered throughout the place. It’s also why a pink dinosaur is perching on the edge of my coffee table while an orange salamander is hanging ever so precariously on a shelf. There are three red birds in my kitchen and two squirrels in the hall. I found a grunting hedgehog in my bathroom and a pig with wings hanging out by the bedroom.
As for the four-footed one, she has flopped down on one of her cushions in the middle of the floor. Resting ever so innocently and peacefully while I take in the chaos. And while the notation of cleaning it up crosses my mind, I know better. Just the slightest sound, the mildest of squeaks from one of the toys is enough to flip that switch to full throttle again. Which is not ideal when it’s basically time to sleep for the night and you know it will take her an additional hour to go from full throttle to peaceful rest again.
So for now I will leave the zoo as it is and because in a few hours she will rearrange it all over again. Probably a million times before the day is done.
Some people have lazy days, typically lazy weekend days. It’s a way of balancing out all the hectic rushing around we do during the week I guess. Slow things down, ignore deadlines and just go with the flow.
We don’t have those in my house. The four-footed one doesn’t believe in lazy days. She also doesn’t believe in sleeping in or altering a routine. She doesn’t understand when I need to rest or the routine gets messed up due to lupus.
Beloved attempted to have a lazy day recently. Get up when he felt like it, have a leisurely breakfast and just see where things took him. He told me the night before he was going to sleep in and just take it moment by moment once he woke up. He was confident in this plan despite me warning him that the four-footed one would be having none of this.
Of course when she woke him up as dawn was breaking he was not thrilled. The fact she was ready to start her day was lost on him. Granted I get being a bit grumpy when you get woken up at dawn because a cute little fou-footed companion needs to go outside. And yes it can be a bit ,cugh when that same cute bundle of fur demands her breakfast and play time right after coming in. And don’t forget the after play walk. All before 7 in the morning thank you very much.
I figured the two of them would sort out the lazy day by early afternoon, both of them napping, except that wasn’t the case at all. She was determined to make up for missed walks with him, and don’t forget about al the missed play time to. While he was hoping to put his fee to pay and read, it has her resting on his legs she was determined to get him walking and playing as if his life depended on it.
I, on the other hand, managed a nice lazy day!
I’m not the type of girl to cry over a broken nail normally. Except today. When my nail broke down deep while visiting with my favorite vampires, also known as a blood draw. The poor woman getting set up to draw my blood bumped my hand and my nail broke down deep. It started to bleed and hurt like heck. So I cried out in pain and surprise.
To be honest the lady who bumped me with her cart resulting in the broken nail had more tears than I did. She kept apologizing and saying it was the worst time of year to have this happen, so close to all the parties as such. There aren’t really any fancy parties this year for me, not with my new medication routine and side effects.
The truth is, I’m breathing a small sigh of relief at not having to go to all the parties. Of not having to be all made up, hair done and nails just so. Let’s not even talk about the shoes and clothing that need donning. And all the energy into getting ready and then faking that I feel cheerful and healthy.
So I did cry out over a broken nail because of the pain and not because of the hardship it might bring. And truly if a broken nail brings hardship, life cannot be that bad.
I had to run some errands today. Not a big deal, not for most people. Except I have lupus. And a cold. At the same time. A guarantee for an exhausting time indeed. So I feel horrible, have achy joints and a sore throat all to go along with running errands.
Now you get a bit of an idea of how I felt and toss into the mix that this time of the year means most stores are busier than normal. It’s basically a recipe for disaster. Which is pretty much how I felt as I went around chasing my errands. And no they weren’t the type of errands that I could do online or leave for another time.
So today wasn’t a super fun time and by the end of errands and such I just wanted to go home and collapse. Into a heap of me that would not move until I had energy. That energy level would probably take five years to obtain. However the four-footed one did not understand any of this.
So I came home, looking to collapse only to find myself playing hide-and-seek with the dog. Because she insisted. Insisted with teeth. Thankfully she got bored early into the game so now I am a happy, yet collapsed shadow of myself.
Nine. As in the number. It isn’t large by some standards, and yet by others it sounds like a lot. Nine, as in nine little puppies. Just born. Nine wiggly and separate beings. Nine new lives. And one very exhausted mother no doubt.
I cannot imagine nine puppies in my house all at once. I think I would probably melt from the sheer cuteness of it all. I know I’d be a zombie from the lack of sleep with the noise they make and the worrying that comes with nine new lives. I cannot imagine the amount of cuddliness nine new puppies bring either.
Let’s face it, I struggle with one. One four-footed being who managed to sneak into my broken and hardened heart. I lost control of the house, my expectations and yes frankly my life as I used to know it, once one small, not exactly new-born puppy crossed the threshold of my doorway. And at the time, having had other four-footed ones in my life, I had thought that it would be pretty much the same as before. Some adjustments and getting to know each other and we’d kind of move as one.
I was wrong. This four-footed one is just as head-strong and stubborn as I am and that is where the problem kicks in. Because neither of us gives easily. And I am trying to imagine a life with nine new puppies just like my four-footed one. And the truth is I can’t. Not really.
I can imagine cuddles, and puppy piles. I can imagine wiggly bodies and boundless energy followed by necessary napping time. I can imagine clumsy movements as they figure out moving forward and backward on those oversized feet. These things I can imagine. But I can also imagine the drain of nine new beings in my current state of struggle with just one overly energetic being.
As for mom, well I cannot even imagine. Nine puppies. Hungry, curious and all the rest. For her to look after. Thankfully they are all doing well, according to my friend. And in time I shall summon energy or simply force myself to go and check out the puppy pile. Because nine is the right number for a puppy pile this time.
A friend of Beloved’s is trying to convince him to go SCUBA diving into the depths of the ocean, to check out caves and the life that lives down there. Beloved is not keen on this idea. As he put it, he is made for land. He can survive on land. He can move on land. He cannot breath in the water without having specialized equipment. Which is heavy. Moving in water is also not natural as it isn’t his natural habitat.
It would be exceedingly unnerving I should think, to be in the inky darkness of the water, unable to see far into the distance. It would also be unnerving in that you can’t see all around you, you have no place to hide really. That is if you need to hide from something with great big teeth which can crush through your delicate skin and bones.
Needless to say Beloved has told his friend he isn’t too keen on the Idea. He has countered with taking a nice boat ride out to the area, but not going in. I personally would go with Beloved’s idea over his friend’s. It just seems more sensible. But then we do tend to fear that which we cannot see or do not know. And besides, sharks! Real live, hungry sharks. Not the kind I used to imagine in the deep end of the swimming pool. These ones are real, wild and unpredictable. So yes the boat makes more sense.
The boat, though, is safe. And safe doesn’t let you see the caves and creatures of the deep. This is his friend’s argument. And secretly I hope this argument continues. Because as long as it continues neither one of them is getting into deep, dark, unknown waters. Which is safe.