The Arrival
My favourite show is Ted Lasso; I've watched each episode probably 20 times. In one episode, one of the characters makes the statement "All people are different people.", and I feel this is 100% applicable to dogs, as well. No matter how much we studied... what people told us... how sure we were what was going to happen- there are no rules for this. It's gonna happen the way it happens.
Phoebe had her first contraction at about 11:15 on Friday morning- two days after the vet said she would deliver. Okay. Shit's happening. We called our daughter Meg, as she wanted to be a part of the process. As it turned out, she was WAY more than just a part.
By 7:00, I'm more than a little concerned. From what we had read, we should have had a puppy on the ground within an hour or two after that first contraction, but she seems to have stalled at a contraction every 6 minutes or so for a couple of hours. She doesn't make a sound during the contractions, either. Something is protruding- slightly- but there's no further action. Okay- F this. We're going to the vet. I'm almost ready to throw up, I'm so worried about Phoebe and the puppies. Meg & Mrs. K are trying to calm me down, but aren't having much success. I'm ex- military and an ex- Corrections Officer. I thrive under pressure- unless that pressure involves something close to my heart. In this case- I'm dying a bit every minute. Meg convinces me to just call the vet's office- they are 65km away- and talk to them. I speak with a vet tech and, naturally, Phoebe IMMEDIATELY starts to have another contraction. We have.... a head. 3 minutes later, another set of contractions and- still just a head. Meg is in the whelping box with Phoebe. the vet tech tells her she's gonna have to help her. Meg and I have something in common- a low barfing threshold for gross stuff- but she's in there like a damned doctor, fingers behind the head, giving the puppy steady traction. Nothing. Now I'm REALLY starting to freak out. Then- poof. Out slides Lizzo. Phoebe cannot reach her to remove the sac, so Meg does. We use the aspirator, and start to rub her vigorously- and lo and behold, we have a living, breathing puppy. Out comes the placenta. Both get placed by Phoebe's head- and she wants nothing to do with them. Has no interest in eating the placenta- and, in fact, doesn't eat any of them. Lizzo starts to yip- and Phoebe tries to get away from her. She actually tried to jump out of the whelping box. We get her calmed down a bit, have her lie down, and, after a bit of effort, finally get Lizzo on a nipple. She's bigger than any of us suspected she'd be at 9.1 oz. She's also- amazing.
I'm SO thankful we have the support of Phoebe's breeder, as well as Tony Nikl and Katie Nikl, great German Shepherd people we've been friends with for 30 years. I'm super appreciative of the vet tech, as well- she managed to talk us through this, even though I could barely hear her over the sound of my heart pounding. Mostly, I'm thankful for Mrs. K & Meg- there is literally no chance I get through this without either of them They're the calm in my sea of panic.
Oh- there's more to come.
Here's Lizzo- the first puppy ever born to River Runts Miniature Dachsunds:
Comments