20071206

So far, five Labroturd puppies. . . .3 black, 1 brown, and 1 albino (?)!!!! Started just after 11pm, and we are still going strong. They are absolutely scrumptious! Killer pulling an all nighter though, Gibbles is helping, I couldn't do it without her.

Posted by Stink Eye & Tube Steak at 1:55:00 a.m.

3 comments:

artquest1 said...

Many years ago, when I was first married, my wife always talked about the joys of growing up in rural areas (as opposed to me, a forever city person). The expressed joys were raising your own food from the garden, tending the land and helping your animals give birth. Ahhhh, the miracle of birth was an oft repeated refrain (we did not yet have kids).
When I had lived at home, we had always had dogs, and almost always females, but as both parents worked, we had also brought the expectant mothers to the vet, and would then pick up the new family members after the deed was done. I had no preference for this, it was just the way it was done, and when my charming, rural wife discovered our dog was in a family way, the miracle of birth became a daily mantra.
A spare bedroom was prepared, the floor covered with a tarp and then old blankets and newspapers, and my sweetheart had me build a birthing box. I got caught up in the magic of the impending miracle of birth and was a willing participant, although with the caveat that my dear farmland helpmate would be in charge. Maybe I could boil the water as they always did on TV.
One evening, about ten o'clock, the dog, asleep on one of the blankets in her obstetrics ward suddenly started whimpering. "It's Time" my beaming bride proclaimed! I was directed to fill a plastic pail with warm, not hot water (so much for TV instructions) while she raced in with clean towels scissors for the cord (I didn't want to know), and several books.
Armed with my water bucket, I found them both on the floor, the dog whining softly and quivering, and my wonderful Earth Mother, stroking her head and reassuring her that she was about to take her rightful place with all of her female antecedents, back to the first amoeba who discovered her splitting personality.
Time passed, and the drama of the moment seemed to fade as nothing except and occasional quiver signaled anything but utter normalcy (if normalcy included a room, tastefully decorated in tarps, blankets and more newspapers than the local recycling center). Suddenly the poor dog, shakily rose to her feet, squatted and started moaning a bit more fervently, as she staggered around a bit, dribbling water.
"We need to get her laying down" shouted the midwife.
"Doesn't she know what position she should be in?" queried the guardian of the warm water.
"Of course not, silly. Everyone knows females give birth lying down, mainly on their back." She tried to push our poor baying beast to a more supine position, but it was quite clear that she had a very different idea.
Suddenly, she stopped her struggles with her rural OB/GYN surrogate, shook violently and let out a loud and mournful howl. In a flash, my Earth Mother partner, bolted from the room crying, leaving me to wonder where does one find a vet at eleven o'clock at night.
I petted our poor mother-to-be, and she responded by howling again, partially squatting, and started the process. My bride, no longer infused with images of the soft lights and angelic choirs which should be the attendant sounds of the miracle of birth tentatively poked her head in, just in time to see a blackish ovoid, smooth and featureless plop down on the one spot of the floor that was not protected. No head, no legs, no features at all, other that something that looked like a shiny black yam.
"It's the placenta" shouted the half a head, peering around the door jamb. "You've got to cut it open otherwise it will suffocated!"
"Me?" I won't even use a needle to pluck out a splinter. "This is your ceremony. Besides, they are your sewing scissors and you told me I was never to use them on anything other than fabric."
"Just do something, the bifurcated head whimpered - there's a puppy in there and it will die!"
At this point, the dog balefully looked at this undulating blob, and bit it. Bright green liquid and bits of pulpy stuff spewed in all directions, the head from the door gurgled and screamed and the last sound I heard from her was the slam of the front door as she exited, not returning until the next morning.
She was greeted by a harried husband, a placid and calm Momma dog, nursing five pups, and a trash can filled with the remains of whatever happened to pup one and six.
Lisa, enjoy your miracle of birth - I have neutered or spayed every dogs I have had since.

Thu Dec 06, 09:46:00 a.m. CST
Anonymous said...

Oh, why have I a sudden craving for "A La Aubergines Boston", Artquest? Lisa, this reminds me of Tibbles' home birth in Strathroy and almost tripping over the Midwives' bucket of blood, guts and placenta that was left in the middle of the bedroom. Deadened my appetite for anything purple (or even off-mauve) for the next few months.
Good work girls, hope to see the pups soon. Mum

Thu Dec 06, 01:53:00 p.m. CST
Rositta said...

Looking forward to seeing pictures of all the pups. Have a good birthing process, hopefully better than artquest1's experience...ciao

Fri Dec 07, 09:53:00 a.m. CST

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