The price of a good dog is a broken
heart at
the end"-Rudyard Kipling
At 7:30 pm, the next puppy arrived on the scene, a large male.
He, too, seemed okay. We thought things were looking up. We stayed by Aradia’s
side, trying to get her to nurse her pups, but she refused. We had to move the
puppies out of the bin as she was pacing and showing signs of distress.
Thankfully, Deaunna made a trip to the store for puppy formula and eyedroppers so
we could begin feeding the two hungry little ones.
Another stillborn. No warning. I watched her birth this one,
as I was on normal puppy rounds. I had hope. As she did her thing eating the sac,
and getting after the umblical cord, it all happened so fast. I had to yank her
off of the puppy. She had torn into it’s stomach. It was tragic. I couldn’t
save him. I began to cry. I wasn’t sure what to do for my girl or for her
litter. I hoped and prayed that was the last one.
Throughout my life, I have had the privilege to be loved by
many dogs, and I have had my heart broken by these canines more times than I
can count.
First, there was Molly and Crystal; my black little Peekapoo and
our loving Brittany Spaniel. When I was six, they had escaped their pen and
were hit by a car. I was told their passing was sudden, which was reassuring,
despite my broken heart.
When I was 11, my mom was breeding Basset Hounds…and I got
quite the education. Taking on the dam with a litter when we got her from a
puppy mill, we lost most of the litter to pneumonia. I buried each puppy in a
shoe box in the back yard. Her second litter, I also helped deliver, out of
which (after an emergency c-section) we lost several of those pups as well, and
kept one, Cassie…which was mine. When both Lucy and she passed, later in life,
I cried my eyes out. And, true to form, out of each puppy in that litter we
lost, I put them in my makeshift backyard graveyard.
Then, when I was 19, there was Scooter, my first German
Shepherd. He developed severe hip dysplasia and had to be put down. I cried for
days.
Shortly after that, came Apollo…who was (for
13 years) the love of my life. He never left my side. He was my wet nosed
companion, and I loved him to pieces, until his quality of life had declined so
badly, I had to make the tough decision to put him to sleep. I began sobbing
from the moment I saw the needle, and didn’t stop for a week.
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The 'Kid" and the Lich King |
After him, there was Aradia, then Arthas and now…four little
furballs (their spawn) that look an awful lot like hamsters than they do German
Shepherd puppies. But their entrance into this world was anything but
anti-climactic.
Tuesday: 6:46 am
We knew it would be soon, but not this soon. Aradia’s water
broke. To keep her safe, I put the whelping bin in the laundry room and closed
her in it, in the event she began having her puppies while I was at work. At
11:30, I rushed home to check on her…no puppies yet. I figured maybe we had a
few more days left before we saw the emergence of the first puppy. …Not the
first time I have been wrong.
Tuesday: 3:42 pm
The call was frantic. All I could hear on the other end of
the phone was screaming and incoherent sobs, “There is something wrong with
Aradia, and one of the puppies!”
I stayed on the phone, talking to the girls as I rushed home
from work. The first puppy had been stillborn. I told her to rub him gently, to
see if we could bring him back. After 10 minutes, I knew the efforts were for
naught. In the meantime, Briaunna had saved the second puppy from being stepped
on by her panicked, frantic mother.
Tuesday: 4:20pm
When I entered the house, we figured the next puppy couldn’t
be too far behind. We had cleaned the first live one off, and she seemed to be
doing okay. The stillborn was wrapped in a towel…with the scent of death
hanging in the air.

At 9:45, entered the runt. This one scared me a bit. She was
slow to be roused, and was wheezing a bit. But after about 10 minutes of
holding her and massaging her, she began taking formula and breathing normally.
Around 11 that night, Aradia showed signs that she was “done”
giving birth. And, at seven years old, a litter of four (three survivors) is
expected. Bri and I sat with them for awhile, as she settled in, finally
letting them nurse a bit. My adrenaline began to wear off, and I was starting
to relax a bit myself. It was over, only one casualty. I had been worried about
my girl through the delivery, and was equally afraid that we would be taking
over puppy nursing. It seemed as though nature had taken it’s course, however,
and that the new family could settle in and relax. At around two in the
morning, Briaunna and I were able to go to sleep, after the puppies had stopped
crying and seemed to be doing well with their mother.
I woke to the sound of a screeching puppy. Aradia had laid on
it. I removed the puppy quickly and tended to my girl. She was showing signs of
distress, as if she was going to give birth again. I was worried. It had been
over six hours since she had her last puppy. I called the emergency vet. The
told me that if she wasn’t actively pushing and bearing down, she should be okay
-- that it was likely only the afterbirth -- but that if it continued, to take
her to our normal vet. It took me until 4:30 to calm her down, when I finally
laid down again.
Wednesday 5:30 am
The puppies were crying again, but Aradia was up and moving
around, as if she was okay. I gave them some formula and let them settle in
again. I went upstairs for a potty break and when I came down, I saw that she
had given birth again. A stillborn. Except this time, she was trying to eat it.
I snatched it from her, and wrapped it up as quickly as I could. There was
nothing I could do. I was beginning to feel totally overwhelmed and stressed
from the entire experience, and the lack of sleep was getting to me. It was
hard to watch.
And, yet again, Aradia settled back in with the pups, leading
me to believe that last one was the final one. I did some chores around the
house and checked in with the puppies periodically. All seemed well.
Wednesday: 8:30 am.

Wednesday 9:30 am
Another birth. He was ALIVE! He moved and squealed from the
second he was born. Thank God!
And again, she settled in with the pups. She was eating and
drinking and we thought all would be well. We did as the vet suggested, watching
her throughout the day, keeping all of the other animals away from her, and we
thought things were looking up. While she wasn’t quite settled in to being a
mother and was groggy and a little out of it, we allowed her some time with her
litter of four.
Wednesday 10pm
Without warning, she had another stillborn. Nothing we could
do for it either. But something was different this time. After removing the
puppy from the whelping bin, she began getting aggressive with the live litter.
She was growling and bearing her teeth at them. This scared me. We immediately
removed the puppies, and put them in a basket. From there, Aradia wasn’t doing
so well. Her eyes were hazy and she was non-responsive. I was hit total freak
out mode.
After another call to the vet, I drove 20 minutes to New Braunfels
with a bleeding dog in the back seat to get her checked out. I was told
specifically to leave the puppies at home.
The vet did a total work up on her, including x-rays and
bloodwork. She had the beginning of mastitis (breast cancer), shortening her
life span substantially. My stomach sank. I don’t know how much time I have
left with my girl.
The vet also went on to say that she wouldn’t be able to nurse
more than four puppies. But, it looked as if she had gotten all of the puppies
out, so she was out of immediate danger. They gave her some fluids, checked her
out thoroughly, and we arrived home at 4am on Thursday. I was told that we
needed to watch her for the next two days, and to take over some of the
feedings.
At this point, I had gone 48 hours with very little sleep, a
lot of emotions and a ton of worry. I slept for a few hours, until I heard a
puppy cry.
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Arragon, Calise, Mouse and Balto |
Aradia was getting aggressive again. We spent most of the day
keeping her and the puppies safe, cleaning out her bin to rid it of the scent
of the stillborns, and cleaning the entire area so that the pups and mom could
be more comfortable. We were washing towels and checking on the babies every
hour on the hour. This went on until 3 am Friday morning.
Friday and beyond
At this point, three of the pups are three days old, the last
is two days old, but Aradia seems to finally be settling in to motherhood, alleviating
me of most of my worry. The aggression towards the litter has stopped, and she
has become a very alert, attentive mother. It appears as if life will go on for
now.
For us, three days with little sleep, the pain, the tears of
sadness (and of joy), the worry, the anxiety and the stress has been eventful,
and quite challenging, but taking care of Aradia and her newly born puppies was
our priority. After all, it’s amazing what we humans will do for the love of a
good dog, even if I know that it will break my heart (once again) in the end.
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