Phase Three - baby phase...?

​(for the start of this story, see Phases One & Two below)

So now we had a puppy.  We called her Guinea, as she was golden, although next door’s children were convinced we’d named her after a guinea pig which caused a certain amount of confusion.  Not surprisingly, the cats were unimpressed.  Fortunately, the puppy was easily intimidated by two pairs of glaring green eyes and an upraised paw.  The puppy soon learned where she came in the scheme of things.  Firmly at the bottom.  An uneasy truce prevailed until we imported a third cat into our expanding menagerie.  Then things got complicated.
 
The new kitten was a little black and white tom.  We called him Gamma, naturally.  My husband put in some proviso about how we were not going to work our way through an entire Greek alphabet of cats but I didn’t take much notice.  Gamma was another long hair with a habit of pogo-ing sideways across the living room carpet which we humans found enchanting.  Even the dog was impressed.
 
Unfortunately, the resident cats had other ideas.  Having sorted out the puppy they were not about to weaken and make friends with this new threat.  Paws were raised.  Hissing ensued.  The kitten decided the dog was his only friend and took to snuggling up with her in the dog basket as a way of keeping out of range of the older cats.  The dog seemed resigned to this new state of affairs.  At least one of the felines was friendly and never tried to use her nose as target practice.  Peace, of a sort, reigned.
Hmmm.
 
The deal with the dog had involved my giving up paid work in a bid to kick-start my writing career.  My days were full.  Writing, walking the dog, cuddling cats, playing with the kitten.  A perfect lifestyle.  Unfortunately, my hormones were not fooled.  There was still no baby on the horizon and time was a-ticking away.
Old plan, resurrected.
 
‘I think we should try for a baby,’ I said to my husband one night after a very late supper.  ‘Now I’m at home all day it makes sense.’
‘Are you freaking kidding me?’ said my husband.  He said it without much conviction.  I think he was beginning to get an idea that these little notions of mine had a way of working out.  But he still gave it his best shot.
‘You’re trying to kick-start a writing career.  I’m commuting and working long days.  When would we have time to make a baby?’
Hmmm.
 
‘How about now?’ I said.
Oddly, he seemed, suddenly, quite motivated.
And I would like to say that this led to the accomplishment of Phase Three.
Unfortunately, life had other plans.
 
Hmmm.
 

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