Even though Granny and I started off on the wrong paw, she loves me and even lets me cuddle up on the couch sometimes. She knows I work my tail off to keep up with my triplets. Whenever she's around she's always snapping pictures and writing stories for my books.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Hunter, Ava, and Max, my HAMs!

Granny keeps writing. Lexi's Triplets I and II to be released by late 2016.

The Beginning of the End

February 19 

I need help. I’m confused. I’m miserable. 

I have to vent­­! Bark out! Create an online presence­­–– make cyber-doggie friends­­!

It’s 4:00 a.m. I’m stuck, with no one to talk to. I’ve tried talking about this problem with Riley Cat, but she’s not spoken to me in the five years I’ve lived here, except to hiss and bat in a jealous rage. She taunts me because she was Mom and Dad’s baby before I arrived. Mom works in fashion and took great pride in dressing Riley for every holiday, until she realized I’m cuter and enjoy posing for photos. Now Riley comes and goes through a cat door to the basement. Sometimes Mom and Dad even lock the little door to keep her in the dungeon so she doesn’t sneeze and cough up hairballs all over the place. 

Tonight my legs twitched me awake from a pleasant dream of playing catch with my yellow tennis ball among the budding roses and daffodils. Shaking the sleepiness out of my scruff, I remembered that my happy life is over. Done. Gone. I tried to sneak out of Mom and Dad’s bed, not an easy thing to do at 70-pounds of big-buttedness. Reaching with my right front paw, followed by left, I planned to jump the hindquarters to the floor, but realized that would make too much noise. So at the last moment I changed my direction and slid my bottom half to the floor, reaching with my tippy-toes, so the bed wouldn’t squeak. I knew I’d be in huge trouble if I woke anyone. Sleep has been hard to come by in this house recently. 

When I padded past Granny, shut behind the guestroom door, the sound of her snoring drowned out the creaking stairway and my uncontrollable, banging tail. 

I braved my way down the basement steps, gritty with cat litter. I hate the basement. But, my answer to finding online support through social media lies entangled in cords, cables, modems, and motherboards in Dad’s computer graveyard scattered about the cellar. I’ve grown up watching my parents use these devices, so I knew I could assemble, connect, upload a profile picture, and begin blogging in under an hour. 

But first, let me introduce myself. I’m Lexi Lee.

A few months back my life was that of the beloved house pet. Mom and Dad went to work. My little house was my castle, the couch my own. I took my job of protecting this palace very seriously, always on keen alert for the mail carrier and UPS delivery. The man in the brown uniform liked me so much he started leaving a Milkbone at the door as a reward. In between times, I have to admit, I napped, but those were the perks of a job well done. 

Life wasn’t all about work. I enjoyed my off-duty hours in the evenings cuddling on the couch and leading Mom and Dad around the block while decked out in my pink rhinestone collar.

Sometimes I’d even tug them to the neighborhood pond and show off by chasing the ducks. Our little family of three was perfect; okay four, if you count Riley.

Change came gradually. 

I noticed Mom’s belly growing. She spent time resting on the couch. She’d ask me to cuddle even as her stomach stretched huge with so much writhing it seemed to kick me. Grandma and Granny took turns staying, invading. They fretted every time Mom stood. Maybe they were worried her belly would pull her off balance and she’d fall. All furniture was occupied with people. They shooed me off my own couch cushions. Grandma and Granny brought Mom things to eat, but forgot to feed me. I had to beg; my hot breath panting on their knees. Sometimes I was reduced to slobbering.  

Two weeks ago I panicked. Mom was missing. Dad, Grandma, and Granny rushed in and out of the house at odd hours. No one spoke to me. I lost a couple of pounds because I barely got fed. I danced and yipped to remind them to let me out as they passed through. Once the door was closed and locked with me stuck in the house, I have to admit I choked back tears. I missed Mommy. Daddy always seemed to wear a concerned scowl. 

 About a week ago I overheard the words “cesarean,” “NICU,” and the names, “Hunter,” “Ava,” and “Maxwell.” Grandma called them “HAMs” for short. Yummy, I licked my chops, thinking things may be changing for the better. Finally I’ll get a good Easter dinner.

Yesterday evening, while watching at the window, I saw Dad pull in the driveway. He stepped from the driver’s door and Mom scooted out of the passenger’s side. I jumped at the window yipping and panting. I was so excited to see her. But, she and Dad didn’t rush to greet me. Instead, they opened the doors of the backseat and removed three little padded chairs. When they pushed me aside to come in the front door I realize there was a tiny, squirming, living being strapped into each seat.

Panting, I pondered, Have they brought me three hairless puppies to take care of? I’m already overworked. TAKE THEM BACK.

Then I started sniffing. They didn’t smell like dogs.

As Mom bent down to snuggle me, I realized her tummy wasn’t big anymore. These three creatures must have come out of her. They smelled human, but they were not even as long as my tail, and much lighter than Mom’s purse. Mom and Dad call them “triplets.” 

Mom snapped this picture before taking the babies out of their seats. Do I look panicked? Well, I am! Mom and Dad seem scared too wringing their hands as they stand, looking down at the little ones.  

As a bright spot in the chaos Granny brought dinner––turkey, not ham. Mom and Dad devoured the much-needed nutrition and I was given a few scraps of stuffing. In all honesty, I didn’t eat much. My stomach felt too nervous. I felt sick as a dog.

            Oh, no, I hear whimpering and Mom and Dad’s feet rushing around the kitchen. That’s all I have time to post tonight, or should I say this morning, since I see through the basement window that black night is tinged with gray dawn. I’d better creep back upstairs so Mom and Dad don’t get suspicious. Anytime I can sneak to the basement in the quiet of the night––not sure we’ll have much of that with teeny humans in the house––I’ll give status updates and post pictures. Please follow me. I need all the support I can get.