Round two. Keebler is also a first time mom and weighs 46 pounds when her normal weight is 32. There must be a gob of puppies in there. I expect an average litter – perhaps 6-7-8. She is scheduled for an x-ray on Thursday to see how many are there. I have been taking her temp on a regular basis and think I see a dip Wednesday morning. The puppies aren’t due for days, but Keebler looks like a tightly packed goat. These puppies are too crowded and they are going to be early.
She begins to look serious about 10 p.m. with panting and nesting. We begin the puppy watch. The first puppy arrives at two a.m. She didn’t wait for the x-ray, so other than being sure she has a LOT of puppies, we really don’t know how many.
The seventh puppy arrives and immediately I know he’s not right. His mouth is slightly twisted and the ear on his left side is tiny. I see a cleft palate, or I think I do. He is viable and energetic at first. As a few hours go by, I observe that while he is snuggled in with the others, his breathing is a little ragged.
Dew claws will be done tomorrow, but I cannot watch this puppy slowly fade. It’s not right. I decide to take him to the vet today. Why am I crying real tears over a puppy just hours old when I know he doesn’t have a chance? That’s just how it happens sometimes and I accept it. Yet I am crying as I drive. I know he won’t be coming home with me. I drive to the vet with him tucked into my shirt. I feel tiny warm breaths on my bare skin, soft little body breathing quietly, sleeping.
I hand him to the vet and ask that before they euthanize him, they examine him. You never know, I could be wrong. I know I’m not, but I need someone to tell me this tiny gentle being is not destined to grow up and be someone’s darling companion. That it is the right thing to let him go. I go home without him and am grateful that Keebler’s remaining ten little furry bits of wonder are doing well.
Newborn photos are located here.
