Chapter Two of Lexi’s Triplets
Contribution by Jean Lee http://lexitriplets.blogspot.com
I wish I was a cat.
Are you there, followers? It’s me, Lexi. Wow, 53 followers since my first post. Thank you for supporting me in my time of need. I feel the love.
I’m sorry I’ve been neglectful, but I’m exhausted––dog tired––no time to write these days. Things have gone from bad to worse.
Not only have I been invaded by the HAMs, but Grandma Strawberry (Mom’s mom) and Gray Granny (Dad’s mom) take turns staying here, nonstop. Ugh! Now, including the HAMs there are six of us, and often seven in my little castle.
The family room is overtaken by three rocking cradles. The babies are still too little to be alone in their cribs upstairs. So they sleep in the family room and are fed every three hours.
Tonight, Dad told Mom he’d take the midnight to 3:00 a.m. shift on the couch, so she could sleep in bed.
I snuggled with Mom upstairs. We’d been snoring softly when we were startled awake by the 3:00 a.m. alarm. Yawning and slurping the sleep from my eyes, I licked Mom’s cheek to remind her it’s time for the middle-of-the-night changing of the guard and diapers. After she wiped my slobber off her face, we staggered downstairs.
Midweek is Gray Granny’s shift, since she’s retired. So, my tail thumped on her door on my way through the hall. After all, if that woman is going to take up space here, she might as well get up and help.
Granny, with her gray hair askew, threw on her flannel robe and held the railing so she wouldn’t trip on my squeaky toys lying on the stairs.
With only the light above the kitchen sink, Mom and Granny prepared bottles.
In the family room Dad struggled to sit up on the couch, yawned and felt around for his eyeglasses while his foot still rocked all three cradles.
I sunk into the loveseat next to him.
The babies with their eyes wide open squirmed while they made sounds like little lambs.
I stole this picture Mom posted on her Facebook page, captioning “Lexi’s on duty for the 3:00 a.m. feeding.” In reality, I was only in charge of diaper sniff patrol.
It’s not fair. Hunter, Ava, and Max don’t have to beg to be fed. In fact they don’t even say a word, they just b-a-a- and bleat. I don’t get fed every three hours. Nobody else does. I think they’re spoiled. Maybe if the grownups fed them some real food, like my favorite, pepperoni and sausage pizza, the little ones might sleep longer and we’d all be happier.
The grownups moved without talking, their eyes only open a slit. Each picked up a baby who was trying to escape from the blankets wound like straight-jackets, only their faces sticking out.
Maybe if they were unwrapped, the HAMs would be happier because they could run and play like me. I could teach them to fetch and play Frisbee.
Mom, Dad, and Granny unwrapped the padding stuck with two strips of sticky tape around the little one’s bottoms and cooed at them even though their nappies were full of poop.
I’ve always had to do my business outside in the sun, rain, or snow. The grownups take care of theirs in the big porcelain drinking bowl. No one tells us, “Oh, that’s such a good poo poo. You must feel so much better!” when we have a code brown.
The other day, I did my I-Can’t-Hold-It-Any-Longer dance until I leaked. I concluded no one would be mad because it must be all right to go inside––since the little ones do. Well, no one cooed or chuckled at me.
Gray Granny slid in the puddle and fell. It was her own darn fault. She wasn’t watching where she was walking.
She turned over from her butt to her knees and stood up holding her hip, yelling “LEXI!”
Dad growled, “Bad dog, Lexi.” He chased me outside, and left me there to shiver in the late-spring snow until he heard me scratching and whining. There was no treat for me when I came inside. I tried my usual trick of yipping to remind him, but Dad just shot me a glare.
If only they’d let me help, I could train the HAMs to doo-doo outside. I’m even willing to share my Pupperoni treats for rewards.
Well tonight, the feeding and diapering stole an entire hour of much-needed sleep. After everybody had a clean bottom, a full tummy, and was wrapped up again like a mummy, Mom plopped on the couch, Granny curled up on the love seat, and Dad headed up to bed for another two hours until his alarm rings for work.
I nuzzled in with Mom, as she turned on the lullabies. I swear, if I hear “Rock-a-bye Baby” one more time, I’ll puke.
I tried to extract myself from Mom’s loosening, sleepy grip to sneak to the basement. Tiptoeing is hard for a dog because my toenails clack on the wood floor, so I’m careful to take steps only during the noisy inhale of Granny’s snore.
The clock above the oven reads 4:15 a.m. as I escape to the cellar to fire up my computer.
I hoped I could creep by Riley without waking her. No luck. She glared at me from the rafters, her green eyes seething with envy. I muttered, “You have no idea of the craziness upstairs, Riley. You’re lucky you can hide down here with no responsibilities for keeping this castle and its people safe. I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this. The babies are already spoiled, and more work than they’re worth.”
Riley spit——fffftt——and arched her back so her hair stood on end. I scrambled to safety under my desk. Then she stretched, circled, curled up in a ball, returning to her luxurious slumber.
For the first time ever, I wish I was the carefree cat instead of the dutiful dog in this family.
Comment from Lucille the Labrador:
I hear you, Lexi. Sounds like you’re in trouble and certainly need support.
Believe it or not, we actually have a growing network of tech savvy pooches sneaking to their owner’s screens, when humans leave them unattended to make face-to-face conversations at the water coolers, or coffee pots, and especially during the hours they’re crashed and sleeping.
Felines do not engage in our network, so your cat comments are safe here.
I relate to your jealousy about new humans. Baby Lucas arrived about 2 years ago. I was just beginning to understand that I’m Mom’s protector and Lucas’ playmate, then baby Lillian joined us and my job doubled.
Usually humans have offspring one at a time, not in a litter. I’m sure your three little humans will keep you trotting triple time, but you could consider yourself three times blessed to receive the HAMs all at once, Lexi.
In any case, know we’re here for you. I will suggest all of my friends follow you so we can support each other.
Thank you Jean Lee for Chapter Two of your wonderful story. Greetings Gianni (the human behind Ernie and Berti)
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