Puppies By Michele Wrath
We are currently in the throws of a new litter at SunnyOaks. This one has gone according to plan, but they haven’t all been that way.
The arrival of puppies is always so exciting. Some litters arrive like a case study out of a text book, with moms who pragmatically go about the business of whelping and rearing their pups. Others have a flair for the dramatic, in the best of circumstances providing the makings of a great story and in the worst of circumstances, leaving a trail of tears that fade slowly over time.
Our first litter introduced us to some of the challenges that Mother Nature can present. Like most people who start out in dogs, the path to the litter box was not a given. We started our search thinking we were going to get a companion animal. That idea morphed into a show dog, and before we knew it, there were two. Breeding was still not in the plan. The bitch we started out with was small during a time when the girls were big. I was a novice handler and made all the mistakes that novices make. Between her size and my handling skills, the path to the coveted CH was neither fast nor direct.
However, we persevered. My handling skills improved, she matured, and at a Specialty weekend in Las Vegas, Gwen finished her Championship with her third major win. She had also just come into season. By this time, I had warmed up to the idea of having a litter. I’d researched pedigrees, talked to stud dog owners and found a dog that that I thought might be “the one”. The stud dog owner was at the show where the
championship was achieved, and so we agreed that once we got home, Gwen would be making a trip to Canada to visit Bill.
The breeding went off without a hitch. We made plans for the coming of the puppies. Gwen continued to grow in size, and one morning about 3 weeks before the puppies were born, I decided to put a bath rug down in the mudroom for her to lie on. I thought this would be a nice alternative to her crate, which was becoming cramped as she grew in size. The rug would provide a more comfortable place to rest than the bare tile floor.
When I got home that evening, the rug was shredded. Gwen must have been digging in it to make a nest. I swept up the mess, tossed the remains of the rug in the trash and we went on with our evening. Three days later we were relaxing after dinner and Gwen got sick. We called our vet, and brought her in for an appointment. They did an x-ray and from what they could discern, everything looked okay.
I took
her home with instructions to feed her small meals and monitor her.
I followed the plan, took her into work with me the next day and everything
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