My days and nights still revolve around a creature who weighs half of our Siamese-mix cat, but there's someone else who needs some extra love, someone who is joining me in the tender world of post-surgical recovery.
Our little Penelope, who is only five years old, blew her ACL, an injury she has been on her way towards for some time now, with her leaping and bounding and leashless adventures. Her left will soon follow, but we can only afford one leg at a time, which is convenient, because she can only recover one leg at a time.
So now, in the daylight hours, it is me, a hungry newborn, a rambunctious black lab mix who hasn't gone on his daily walks in a while, a golden retriever who is supposed to be confined, and two cats who are both needy and insist on chewing everything plastic to bits. Sometimes my eyes get a bit crossed, especially when Maya decides that I cannot move anywhere in the house without her attached, or she will wail from said abandoned post. Fortunately, I sleep in decent bouts, even if nothing else gets done.
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Our dog got sick shortly before the baby came, and it was so bad when we got home from the hospital that my hormonal crying bouts were spent worrying about the dog. He's not necessarily healed now, but at least has stabilized, and is back to his puppy antics.
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