The Arrival- Part 2
So we FINALLY have our first puppy on the ground. My idea for names (Green, Pink, Blue, etc.) has been vetoed by both Cyndy (Mrs. K) & our daughter Meg. The first one, a female, gets the consensus name Lizzo- and I get to name the next one!!! But it’s about a three hour wait- which is maybe a good thing, as Phoebe is starting to get into the groove as far as mothering goes. She does not, however, have any interest (with any of the puppies) in eating the placenta or the sac, nor biting through the cord. Good. This is a dog that licks my face…
We clamp off the placenta using cheap plastic clips from Amazon- and they’re working like a charm. We snip the cord with sterilized scissors and leave the clip for about 5 minutes.
So- here comes #2. I’m trying to observe, but it’s not easy- bending over the whelping box it tough on my back. But- I get in there as best as I can to watch Meg performing her magic. We have another puppy, which I’m only too happy to name “Waffles”. Meg & Mrs. K are not thrilled. We settle on “Eddie”.
It’s now approaching midnight, and I know Meg has to leave soon. She helps deliver the next male (Reggie), and then- we’re on our own. Frankly, I’m scared I’m gonna screw this up- but now Phoebe’s just showing off. Series of contractions- birth- aspirate- clamp- cut- rub until squeaking. Express a bit of milk on the tip of a finger, let the puppy start to suckle on it, transfer to nipple. We go through probably 60 or 70 pairs of nitrile gloves, and a lot of towels & paper towel. There’s no blood- just some greenish stuff that should be making me barf, but, oddly, doesn’t. After each birth, I take the clamp & scissors upstairs, and sterilize them. Number 4 (Frankie) arrives without incident, and we have 3 boys and 1 girl. Number 5, Hazel, slides out. Phoebe’s a champ. No issues. I go up to sterile- and Cyndy says “Here comes another!!!”. Happily- we have back- ups. Naturally, the last one is the first to come tail first- and she gets hung up. I need to assist. They’re so tiny, and I’m deathly afraid of hurting her. After a few more contractions, I manage to get my fingers just forward of her hips. As Phoebe pushes, I pull; just steady traction. This happens a few times- and I realize I’m being too gentle. Next set of contractions, I exert more force- and out comes Daisy.
Three boys. Three girls. Perfect.
All are eating. Cyndy’s been doing the thousand other things that need to be done. We have records for what time each arrives, position (head/ tail), weight, any issues. As they are taken to be weighed, Phoebe shows concern every time, but quickly relaxes when they are put back.
We’re both utterly exhausted by the time Daisy is put back with Phoebe. It’s almost 4:00 a.m. We both grab quick showers (because- you know. Ew.).
I swear- when I get up the next morning, it’s absolutely silent downstairs, and I honestly wonder if she’s eaten them (it happens). Nope. Still all snuggled in to Mom.
I think we can actually relax- for about three weeks.
I sense trouble on the horizon. If the pups are anything like the parents, they’re all going to have an incredible excess of personality.
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