Wednesday, 31 March 2010

One Last Time

It's one o'clock, and I can't stop crying.

This morning I put Bugg on trailer, headed to new owners and a new life. The barn feels hollow, my view of our empty pasture is sad.

Her new owners have been wanting a Connemara for their grandkids to ride. A chance conversation over dinner a couple of months ago raised a possibility that today became reality.

Bugg's new home has other horses, regular trail rides, and two girls that want to see what possibilities exist. (My son learned to ride on Bugg's niece, Laurel.) It sounds ideal.


But it has been bittersweet.

The last several days I've been spending a lot of time with Bugg, re-playing the Parelli games, stripping out her winter coat, handling her feet. I was struck, time and again, by what a nice, nice pony she is. Sane, sensible, easy, kind. Since late 2008 the rhythm of my life's routine has been closely tied to her needs - daily feeding schedule, regular grooming, trying to keep her in work, blankets on and off during the bitter nights of winter. Mucking and scrubbing and hauling hay and scrutinizing grain. But she deserves better than the life of pasture candy, more opportunity to get out and about and have fun than I have been able - or willing - to provide.

I had high hopes, big dreams for us, when Bugg arrived two years ago. But having horses means having a having a horse-centric lifestyle, something I realized I'm never going to do.


While there are no regrets about Bugg's departure to better things, I do have disappointments. Two AI breedings that never took and now will never be repeated; there was a time when I would have sold my soul for a Go Bragh or Clearheart baby (and I'd have sold more than that for a good quality hard-colored colt by either one of them). Time and money and hopes never to be recovered - such is the lot of a horse breeder. Perhaps it's just as well, the horse market has been brutal the last few years. I'll never see the view of my dogs course hare from her back, or find out if I had the courage to learn to take fences despite my age (closer to 50 than 40).

Yesterday I was acutely aware of each thing
being done for the last time. The last grooming, the last trim of her bridle path; the last time I'd rest my ear on her flank and listen to her healthy gut's gurgles. The last face rub; the last time our breaths would mingle as she nuzzled my cheek. The last time I'd scrub a water bucket, or throw hay, or dump grain into a pan. Once more I climbed on her back, Bugg's nose coming around to touch the tip of my boot before we moseyed around the paddock... for the last time.

As we walked out to the gate in the dawn's early light, Rick snapped a couple of pictures. She didn't mind that I interrupted her breakfast to put on a halter, and she liked the bits of apple as I led her out. She went on the trailer like she did it every day, rather than less than a dozen times in her life.

I treasure the lessons she taught me. Horses are smart,
in their prey-animal ways. Bugg took to clicker training as easily as a dog, and better than most cats I've tried. But her run-or-be-eaten wiring challenged me to try harder, breath deeper, go slower. I trusted her with my life, as well. One day last year, while picking out her feet, my glasses fell off my face, somewhere under this 800 lb. animal with lightening reflexes and a keen sense of self preservation. Without thinking (foolish, foolish human that I am) I dropped to my hands and knees, feeling around in the straw bedding until I found my glasses. I pushed them up my nose and stood up - and then the stupidity of what I had just done struck me. Bugg was looking at me, one ear back, as if to say "silly biped, don't you know most horses would kill you for doing that?" She was right, of course, and all I had to offer was a cookie for her kindness.

It hasn't all been sunshine and roses, but that's more my failing than hers.

So this morning we took one last walk together: through the
barn, down the driveway, between the trees, out the gate, into the morning's first rays of sunlight, and onto a truck. And I said a quick goodbye and gave her a slice of apple - for the last time - and sent her on her way.

Then sobbed all the way back to the house.

And then it was one o'clock and time to feed lunch; I'd walked halfway to the barn before I remembered, looking at the empty corral... and wiped away more tears as I turned away.

Godspeed, LoveBugg. And thank you.

Monday, 29 March 2010

From hamsters to piglets

Three weeks of age, and the milestones keep ticking by:

Eyes open - check.

Hearing - check.

Walking (er, staggering) - check.

Play begins - check.

Conscious elimination begins - check.

Self awareness, climbing, & exploration all begin - check, check, check.

Weaning begins - check... and a napkin, please!!

I would love to post pictures of cute faces - the Ahdin babies are too adorable for words. Imagine, if you will, a photo of their four gorgeous heads with full pigmentation, dark eyes and haws, all in a row... But no. They are far too busy to hold still for such a photo, even if they were clean enough to attempt one.

They are having far too much fun playing in, and with, their puppy gruel to be bothered with pretty pictures. Oh yes, they are eating it, but it gets everywhere in the process.

See the website for individual photos... this is the ONLY one with no feet in the pan (quite possibly an accident).

Saturday, 27 March 2010

Luck Runs Out - almost

I guess it's time to confess to a dirty little secret.

We have a beagle.

I've mentioned this hound a couple of times before, and after yesterday's trauma I suppose it's time to "reveal all".

This tale starts in early 2004 when the friend-of-a-friend asked for help if locating a beagle to adopt. At that time I had good connections with rescue and shelters (we lived elsewhere in NM at that time), so after clarifying the seeker's requirements (young adult, 15", altered, housebroken, good with kids), I put out my feelers. Over the course of a few months I screened several candidates, none fit the bill.

Until one day, a owner-surrender came across my radar.
To say that "Copper", as he was then called, was fat, is to make light of his girth. The dog was hugely obese, 56# in a 15" body. This, people, is what animal cruelty looks like. Obesity is easy to prevent, and puts incredible stresses on the body's joints and organs. It is mean and irresponsible to allow a dog - any animal - to eat so much that this becomes their condition.

At five years old.

I drove to Albuquerque, temperament tested the dog (with kids, food, toys, and basic husbandry), and found him charming and stable. I stepped outside, called the seeker, confirmed they wanted
this dog, and bailed Copper out of the shelter and into my car.

Not the first time I'd brought home a rescue, not the last. But he turned out to be a rescue like no other. The old adage that "no good deed goes unpunished" may have flitted through my mind... I don't really remember.

I seem to recall it was a Thurdsay when I did this... the next day we all headed out of town for an agility trial, taking the new dog with us (he couldn't fly out until the next week as we were awaiting veterinary paperwork). Turned out Copper had a terrible vice: baying. Incessantly. The friends set up next to us at the agility trial actually
moved to get away from the noise. We were pariahs all weekend.

No matter, he was leaving in a few days.

And leave he did, shipped out by air to his new owners, who had pined for a beagle for nearly three years.

And three days later I spoke to the new owners, to see how things were going. Oh, fine, they said. He's sweet and smart and the grandkids love him, but he's too tall so we're taking him to the shelter here.

Um, WTF? No, you're not. Read the contract, he comes back to me, on your nickle. No exceptions. (Too
tall? Seriously? Whatever.)

So Copper was flown back to us - promptly dubbed "Boomerang" - and a new adventure began.

He arrived heavier than when he left - now a staggering 58#. Boomer was granted house privileges while we figured out how to place him again, and he relished in the new accommodations.

New Mexico Beagle Rescue was over-stuffed
and unable to take him, so we agreed to foster Boomer until a new home was found. I took him back to the vet for a detailed exam (his initial trip had been to secure a Health Certificate so he could be flown out of state) - and we were shocked by what the vet found: bilateral subluxating patellas, lubo-sacral disease, and worst of all, a severe heart murmur. This was no longer a dog that could be placed in a pet home. We could return him to the shelter or keep him.

Hardly a choice at all.

So Boomer went on a diet. At that time Rick was the house-spouse, so Boomer joined the border collies on long daily walks in the 500 acre open-space behind us. A strict, high-quality diet, proper supplements, and countless miles later, a very attractive hound emerged:
This picture was taken just four months after Boomer went on a diet - still too heavy at 35#, but soooooo much better than he was.

There was, and still is, fall-out from his early years of being free-fed. Boomer had come to see food as his god-given right to consume at will. He counter surfs, steals food off the plate in front of you and sometimes out of your hand, walks on the dining table, tears open food bags, grocery bags, trash bags - anything that contains something remotely edible. Having a beagle has turned out to be a lifestyle, and one frankly that we don't particularly enjoy.

Boomer is also an escape artist - which he proved in spades yesterday and is actually the prompt of this post. One of my favorite stories involves my sister (and mostly because it [A] wasn't a failure on my part, and [B] it ended well) who came over to potty dogs while Rick and I were away for several hours. I had a HUGE sign posted, which she looked at
after letting the dogs into the back yard. The sign said: do not let Boomer outside unsupervised. She ran into the back yard, only to discover Boomer was already gone. The sounds of screams from next door (we lived in suburbia at the time) drew her attention - Boomer had gone over the back wall, down a culvert, up the other side, through a neighbor's garage, into Vera's house via the cat door, and was eating her cat's food in her kitchen.

We bought Vera a bouquet of flowers.

Since moving to our Ranchero, keeping track of Boomer has become part art and part science. Because he digs (the only one of our dogs to do so), we have learned the hard way - repeatedly - that there's no such thing as a beagle-proof fence. He can go under, around, and through anything - and regularly does. Gates are no challenge. The dog-equipment industry has yet to invent a collar or harness that can contain him. (We should have named him Houdini.) Supervision is the only solution, as training (it took me three years and multiple attempts to get him to pass a CGC test) only works when you are vastly more interesting than some distant temptation. At night he wears a lighted collar and a bear-bell so we have some notion of where he is in the small dog-yard off the house.

This winter was harsh. We've had many many feet of snow and the ground has been frozen for four months.

We got sloppy about watching Boomer. By we, I mostly mean me.

Yesterday, just before lunch, I put Boomer out to potty, then the phone rang. I answered the phone and chatted for twenty minutes. Then it hit me.
Fuck, Boomer's outside.

I grabbed a coat (it was howling wind) and dashed out the door - no Boomer in the dog yard. I stepped back in the mudroom, grabbed a leash, and headed to the barn. Boomer finds horse-poop irresistible, and has been known to break into Bugg's stall for a gorge-fest. It is, in fact, his preferred destination. This time - no Boomer. I knew I was in trouble.

After a quick survey of the rest of the ranchero, I went with the feeling in my gut: Boomer was off-property.

Fighting the panic rising in my system, I called Home Again and started printing flyers. I called all the neighbors
(which covered 40 acres in 5 phone calls), let Rick know, and headed out the gate. I had posted four flyers and was was taping the fifth when the phone rang: A guy had Boomer in his garage, about 1/2 mile to the east.

Total elapsed time: a little over an hour.

Toll on my being: about 100 years.

While letting the microchip company know the dog was missing was the right thing to do, that isn't what got him back in my possession so quickly. It was the brass plate on his collar - home phone number, the word R E W A R D, and the microchip information. All of which is duplicated on his tags.

It was 15 degrees overnight; imagine if he'd been out all night. A 10 year old dog with cancer, not much body fat or coat. It was luck he didn't cross the main road, but stayed on "this" side, avoiding the traffic that routinely speeds down the hill. Boomer was trying to break into this guy's dogyard, where a bowl full of kibble is out all day for his own dogs. Thankfully the guy was home and heard the ruckus, caught Boomer easily, and checked the collar.

He wouldn't take the reward money I offered. Hey, I've got dogs, been there. No worries.

So now we have a hole under the fence to fill, gate mesh to extend, and I'm seriously considering electrifying the bottom interior of the dog yard. It already looks like a prison out there... hey, maybe I should consider concertina wire... No, I've got it: I'll train him to use a litterbox, so he'll never go out of the house again.

Yeah, right.

That is my confession. We have a beagle, and all too frequently he gets the better of us. Our first - and last - scenthound. A beloved member of our family, but... never again. One of these days his luck is going to run out, for good. And that will be very sad indeed.

Thursday, 25 March 2010

Coming of Age

The puppies were born 18 days ago (don't worry, nobody's letting them vote), and a big part of their "puppyhood" development is over.

The
Super Puppy neurological stimulation exercises were completed on Day 16, and we managed to get some pictures. These gentle stimulations have decades of science behind them, and very breeder I've spoken with that uses them swears they work. So we did them.

Before starting, I would weigh each puppy:
This week, weighing puppies has been both entertaining and challenging, as Yaso here demonstrates. Now having good control over their legs, climbing OVER has become a popular passtime - over each other, over Mama, over the edges of things. Combined with their eyes being open (though it's debatable that they see more than light, shadow, and big motion) they are avid explorers. It's both fun and a little alarming when they go OUT the holding box when I'm changing the bedding!

Once a weight for the day had been recorded, the foot stimulation was done:
Oro was pretty cooperative on Tuesday. Sometimes they protested mightily, others they squirmed, others they were nonchalant. Every day we did a different foot, so each set of toes was tickled four times.

Next each puppy is held upright:
You can see that Dos's eyes are open, her pigmentation is wonderful, her nails need trimming (done!), and the plump belly. Can you say - perfect!

Next they were held - very securely - upside down. Not very photogenic, so on to the next bit, which is cradling on back:
This usually involved some form of protest, as Yaso ably demonstrates. The first week they were easy to hold, but as they grew by leaps and bounds my small hands had a harder time supporting the entire body. Glad we're done!

Saving the worst for last, was the chilled damp rag torture:
Rojo didn't make it off the platter in four seconds, but like all his siblings - he tried!

When we finished with each puppy, we handed him or her to Rumor for a thorough cleaning (nasty people smell! must get rid of that!) and a nosh. Then they all stretched out for a nap, which I have to say sounds like a great idea:
Oro, Yaso, Dos, Rojo

And yes, that glimpse of newspaper means they are eliminating independently, though Rumor is still clean as a cat and keeps the whelping box spotless.

Our next adventure: puppy gruel. Hooo boy, that should be messy!

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

It Takes a Village

I may live in the boonies, but to say the Ahdin litter came about without a lot of help would be disingenuous.

Help takes many forms, and I'd like to take a post to thank some people and share a few of the resources that have been particularly useful.

THE VILLAGE (OF) PEOPLE
Thank you to: Sandra - for Py, for everything. Mary, Dora, & Chandra - for Rumor. Barb, Bobbie, Elaine, Karen, Laurel, Sherita, Susan - for support and advice. Sandra (again) and Susan for vouching for me (I know you did). Susan (and again) and Aenone for Skype-ing me when Cayenne whelped - that, I have to say, was the best "resource" ever. Mary (again) for always, always answering her phone, answering every question and providing guidance - without treating me like a dork. Most of all, Joan - for being, for... well, for everything.

And to Rumor: we both know you are doing all the hard work. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.


The following resources have, and continue to be, useful. Some were interesting, others are utterly invaluable. YMMV.

BOOKS
I love books. I love turning pages and making notes and the comfort they provide by being constantly accessible. These have kept me company these past months, and as they move from nightstand (and desk, and end table) to bookcase I will be glad to know they remain close at hand. (Images pilfed from Amazon and Dogwise; shop around for best pricing):



This is the one book everyone loved and insisted was a must-have. And I will agree, it's well organized, clear, helpful, practical, and easy to use.






These two books should
come as a set, and are worth every penny. The list of supplies to have on-hand is detailed, and I watched the DVD (showing how to tube feed, among other things) over and over.




Speaking of DVD's, this one is also great. Not too technical, detailed information on cesarian sections, singletons, neonate development... etc. From "the man" in canine reproduction.






A friend recommended
this book and loaned it to me. Widely considered a classic, covers picking stock to whelping and beyond.








Another favorite loaned by a friend, one that I liked so much I bought. Don't be fooled by the publication date, it's terrific.






Another older book with still-relevant information (no image available).

And a few books that have general information as well as breeding/whelping details:

A UK publication:







A classic, recently updated, and an absolute must-have.








MORE PEOPLE
I would be remiss not to thank the veterinarians, many of whom I count among my friends, for help, support, and service along the way. Noah, for the pre-breeding exam of Py when the hope for "tartlettes" started a couple of years ago. Diana, who did the palpation that confirmed pregnancy and cheered us along every step. Rebecca, for checking medications and ensuring I always have a well-stocked pharmacy on hand - and her cell phone number so I can check in before dispensing. Donald, for the x-ray and good wishes. Western Trails, for being on standby during whelping (thankfully they weren't needed).

SUPPLIES
Joan loaned me a whelping box and heater, they are GREAT. Next week we move everything from the study to the family room and attach the extension. I've made endless use of dog blankets (get the ones at Costco - same thing for 1/3 the price) and piddle pads, a large quantity of both are invaluable.

WEB SITES
Too many to list, but I have made daily use of information and forms and they have saved me countless hours of headache and confusion.

The lists go on and on - by you have the general idea.

So clearly, one does not need to live in a heavily populated area to have a "virtual village" of support. I couldn't have done it - calmly ;-) - without the help of many kind friends.

Monday, 22 March 2010

Two Weeks and Growing

They were born two weeks ago today! Now flirting with three pounds each, eyes are mostly open, and legs that are mostly underneath with game attempts at actual walking, they resemble puppies more than anything else.

I will post more pictures this afternoon when my errands are done for the day. Maybe this morning's puppy-pile will keep you amused until then:

(post-breakfast nap - doesn't look comfortable to me! but what do I know.)

Monday, 15 March 2010

Little Milestones - 1 week old

The Ahdin litter is a week old today!

I will confess to having spent absurd amounts of time watching the puppies, holding and cuddling and generally acting like a smitten fool. Oh well.

Can't believe I go back to work tomorrow! I will miss them while I'm gone, even if it is only for a few hours. They grow and change by the minute, and their antics are endlessly absorbing. Such as their "eat? nap? or puppy pile? nah, let's eat" negotiations. The brute in the morning, climbing over a sibling and stealing a nipple, may well be the one on the bottom of the heap in the afternoon. No longer hamster-like, now they are fat sausages. With tails.


By this age, each should have doubled from birth weight. They have, in spades. We started the "super puppy" exercises, which I call
puppy torture time. Rumor thinks I'm insane, and watches me with bewilderment from the otherside of the sliding glass door. And of course, the puppies must think I'm evil as they got their nails trimmed and that was not their idea of a good time, nosiree.

Daily exposure to a
novel organic smell is underway, too. They have met two new people this week (thanks to Elaine and Miela for coming by!), were held by Anthony near his sweaty armpit after a day of snowboarding, and took turns on my chest while I ate popcorn.

Their eyes will open in the next few days, which will expand their horizons considerably. I'm looking forward to every minute!

Friday, 12 March 2010

Facing Facts

The truth is, these puppies are wicked-cute:

l => r: brindle boy, black&brindle boy, gold girl, brindle girl

They are four days old today. Life so far has consisted of Rumor's tender and careful attentions, nursing (resulting in impressive weight gains), and charming explorations. While their sleep-cycle is dominated by twitching, the movements when awake are hysterical. They look a bit like hamsters (albeit with tails), move a bit like lizards (legs out to the side, pushing along), and sound sorta like cats (the noises crack me up). Rumor's ability to ignore their "I'm lost!" protestations from under rail or when futilely seeking a nipple on her backside sets an example for me to follow. The puppies are "on their own" for getting around; finding warmth or food or a cooler spot no longer gets any assistance.

Other than increasing Ru's meals, washing bedding twice a day, and providing door-man service, she continues to need very little from me. I am taking her for a walk a couple of times a day, and while she seems happy to get out for a few minutes is ready to race back to her treasures by the end.

The puppies have started their
neurological stimulation, including novel scent articles daily, but mostly they alternate between piling up for naps and wrestling matches for the best nipples. Their eyes will start to open next week, so this is the end of flash-photography for a while.

Truth be told, I'm helplessly smitten with them.


Tuesday, 9 March 2010

Puppy Pool Winners & Biotinus Test

First, the winners of the puppy pool are as follows:

Whelp Date: Laurel
Duration of whelping: Tom
Number in litter: Joan
Colors: me

Well done everyone! Thanks for playing.

Second, a picture from today:


Please don't worry, there aren't two headless puppies; sometimes the best nipple is on the underside. One of the few times they are all still and quiet... drifting off to sleep with a full belly. Plump like sausages. Ru continues to be a model matron. Much of the time there are "wild west" puppy piles and lots of vocalizing. Loud protests and jockeying for access are commonplace. Extremely entertaining.

Third, the biotinus test results are in, and I am thrilled. Vigor for this group is off the chart, each has gained weight every 12 hour period since birth. This means that they got plenty of colostrum, and are very, very strong so far. (Knock on wood.) Weight gains for the first 48 hours range from 10 - 24%; combined with their ability to orient and nurse immediately after whelping, it appears that we have four keepers.


Evening update: Gains range from 21 - 30%. Amazing what another 12 hours of nursing can do!


For those unfamiliar with the biotinus test, following is an article on its applications and usefulness. I'd be interested in hearing from any breeders that have experience using it.

Selecting for Vigor
by Suzanne Clothier
Copyright 2007-2009
Flying Dog Press/Suzanne Clothier
reprinted in accordance with requirements

Thoughts on observing puppies during the crucial first days, and what should be considered when selecting breeding stock.

One way to determine the vigorousness of individual puppies during that relatively tranquil first week of life.

The first week of a puppy’s life begins with the whelping. Once he’s been dried off, weighed and checked for defects, the serious breeder begins the selection process which will eventually determine which puppies will be kept or sold as breeding/show stock, and which will be placed as pets. The first moments after delivery are an important time to begin this process. Unfortunately, many breeders are unaware of this, and cannot interpret the behavior of the newborn puppy as in­dicative of the future. A simple test will help you understand the great differences in newborns. Known as the biotinus test (Latin for “vigor of life”), it should be a routine part of each and every whelping, with results recorded right along with weights, overall condition and sex. Once the cord is cut, and the puppy is dried off, he is ready for his first meal. Place the puppy about two puppy lengths away from the bitch’s nipples, heading away from her. Once placed in this position, time how long it takes the puppy to turn itself around, orient properly and get to its first meal.

The bitch should be allowed to carry on in the normal course, neither encouraged nor discouraged from dealing with her puppy as she sees fit. Human interference in any part of this will not reflect an accurate test of biotinus. The bitch’s reactions, too, are part of the inheritance the puppy will receive from her. A bitch that interferes with her puppies to such an extent that they are not able to nurse unless assisted is a “self-limiting proposition.” In a natural state, such behavior would result in her inability successfully to pass on her genes through her offspring. Careful thought should be given to the future use of such a bitch and/or her offspring.

Some puppies are amazingly fast to get to that first meal, while others are agonizingly slow to orient and nurse. Sit back and watch each puppy. This is how to learn about the innate vigor of each, thus beginning the process of knowing each puppy as an individual.

Value of the Test
Many breeders not only cut the cord themselves, dry the puppy off and in other ways deny the bitch her proper role as mother, but also take each puppy and place it in proper position for the first meal. Some wisely sit back until a puppy appears slower than usual to get started, but then without a second thought, move in with well-meaning human intervention. Why not? “He needed just a little extra help,” is often the response. Most breeders have experienced a puppy with a problem. Even with the best of care under optimum conditions, sooner or later, there will be a puppy who seems to need a little help.

Whether a breeder realizes it or not, taking steps to assist such a puppy can have long-term implications for your breeding program, unless vigor of life is assessed and included in the criteria for determining which puppy to keep. What are the implications of this widely accepted human interference in the course of nature? Breeders must be acutely aware of every possible variable that will ultimately affect a particular dog, his status as either pet or breeding stock, and therefore, the future of a breeding program.

Is it wise to interfere or assist with such procedures as supplemental feeding, or tubing, or even something as seemingly innocent as helping a puppy to a nipple? Perhaps doing so is denying that the dogs are not as vigorous as they should be. Granted, imposed on our dogs are a variety of unnatural situations, starting with their diet, housing, and even choosing their mate. This is the life of the domestic dog. However, when breeders look to past and future generations, they do so with an eye to making a long-term improvement, if not in the breed at large, at least in their own lines. Ideally, the best rule of thumb is, “In the wild, this puppy would survive without my intervention.’’ That is, of course, in the ideal world. How then does a breeder make a decision to assist, or not interfere, when there is a problem?

Most breeders are quite reluctant to adopt the “let nature take its course” attitude, and watch a puppy die. No one likes having puppies die. I would like to suggest that assistance be given to whatever extent a breeder is comfortable with, but the fact that assistance was necessary should be noted and taken into consideration when the final decision on show/pet is made. Not too long ago in German Shepherd Dogs, Rottweilers and other breeds in Germany, culling was done on a routine basis by breed wardens, with certain criteria employed to determine which puppies are fit to be registered, and used as breeding animals. Aside from obvious defects (cleft palate, limb abnormalities, etc.), the criteria used in culling include the vigor of each individual, as determined by biotinus at birth, and a weight gain (or lack of) by 48 hours. In America, this practice is almost unheard of. Instead most breeders tend to make the delineation between pet quality and breeding stock. Therefore, breeders must use other methods to in­sure that their breeding stock are truly vigorous animals that would survive in a natural or wild state.

Making Determinations
Use the results of the biotinus test combined with the progress in weight 48 hours after birth to determine a pup’s degree of vigor. Many puppies remain at or lose slightly from their birth weight the first day, but should have regained and added to their birth weight after 48 hours. Breeders should note this in their records and weigh it carefully against other criteria such as movement, overall structure and temperament as the puppy matures.

Through my own litters and through knowledge of other breeders’ experiences, I have learned a great deal about the importance of the initial determination of vigor of life. One bitch in particular is an excellent example. At birth, she was extremely small for her breed, and needed (and received) supplemental feeding for the first four days. With such human intervention, she progressed rapidly, and while always small, seemed an active, normal puppy. The breeder, when it came time to determine which bitch she would keep as her breeding prospect, chose this little bitch over a stronger (at birth) and more normal bitch based purely on sentiment, not taking into account the obvious initial lack of vigor. While diet, environment and genetics contributed to the reproductive history that follows, choosing a puppy with a more vigorous beginning might have spared both the bitch and her owner a good deal. Bred the first time, she produced, with some difficulty, five puppies. Her next season, she developed pyometra, and instead of being spayed, was treated hormonally to correct the problem. Bred again, she produced three pup­pies by C-section following uterine inertia. Two puppies were born dead. The third one was alive, but had some minor abnormalities in the hind limbs.

A year later, the bitch was bred again, this time placed on a natural diet and exercised properly. She produced, with no problems, seven healthy puppies. But, she developed gastroenteritis eight days after whelping, requiring emergency surgery. Although she survived, she lost all interest in her puppies and considerable effort was required to keep them alive. Her next breeding, one year later, produced eight puppies, four born by C-section after uterine inertia set in. (The bitch had not been fed or exercised as she was during her third litter.) During the C-section, it was determined that the condition of her uterus was sufficiently poor to warrant spaying, and she was spayed at that time.

What does this history mean? Perhaps, even if she had been a normally vigorous puppy at birth, her diet and environment would have produced the same results. But it is important to see this history as one in which a variable was ignored when making the selection of breeding stock. Since there certainly are enough problems already stacked against breeders, they cannot afford to ignore any criteria which will help to determine in which dogs they shall invest time, emotion, energy and money as breeding animals.

A glance through a copy of any breed magazine will show that dogs are dying too young, many of them top winning dogs who have already or may affect a breeding program. In addition to the common worries about hips and elbows, temperament and a host of ailments, breeders must also be greatly concerned that the animals they breed to and from are the most vigorous specimens they can produce. Breeders must always strive to maintain and improve the vigor of life in our puppies. The first week of life is a relatively quiet one for the puppy. But for the breeder, it is the time when the process of selecting the puppy to keep must begin.

Weeks from now, when puppies are gaiting across the yard, and the breeder’s eyes irresistibly are drawn to that special bitch, or the big male with the gorgeous headpiece, she should consider also their initial “vigor of life.” Perhaps with the spectacular, but less vigorous puppy, you could do a great deal of winning. But in the long run, would you have added or improved the vigor and vitality of your breeding program? The ideal balance of vigor, temperament and beauty is the hallmark of a truly correct dog.

Originally appeared in the AKC GAZETTE, June, 1987

Puppy TV

Rumor is proving an exceptional mother, once again. Calm, attentive, and at peace.

Her pre-whelp need for my constant presence evaporated like raindrops on hot pavement once the puppies arrived, and she seems now only to appreciate me for my ability to bring meals, rather than my actual attention. Which is perhaps as it should be; her babies have her full devotion.

The whelping itself seemed to last forever; Rumor dragged it out over the entire day. I'd like to thank Mary C and Sandra M for providing the calm and sense I needed to support Rumor throughout the day, and Joan G for sitting with me and pitching in during the brief periods of activity.


A little puppy video for your viewing pleasure...
No remote required.


30 seconds of nursing contentment while Ru napped, perhaps dreaming of low-flying birds... The babies have all gained weight and continue to exhibit individual characteristics.

Monday, 8 March 2010

"Born to Run"

Guess what was playing on the iPod when the first one arrived? That's right, Springsteen.

A long day that required more patience than I expected... details when I've showered, eaten, and slept at length.

The racetrack litter: 2 males, 2 females.


Sunday, 7 March 2010

The Big Chill

I'm guessing THIS is what we've been waiting for:
Restless overnight, didn't eat all her breakfast (first time she's not licked the shine off the bowl).

Stay tuned...

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Afternoon update:

Refused lunch (
unprecedented - alert the media!). We took our afternoon walk, then Ru rushed back to the house and into her box, proceeding to re-arrange the bedding for the zillionth time. Pretty sure we're in Stage 1 Labor - panting, occasional vocalizing, incredibly clingy and restless, etc.

-------------------

Evening update:

Two bites of dinner, and the Stage 1 carry-on continues, intensified. In a curious development, she's stolen a toy and taken it into the whelping box with her. I'm expecting live replacements will be along sometime soon.

Temp graph for all of today:

Next update will be on Monday.

Saturday, 6 March 2010

Patience is a Virtue...

...I could use more of.

Rumor is fine, temp is normal, appetite is great, sleeping and going for walks and looks for all the world like nothing is amiss.

So no panic is allowed. More patience is required.

To keep myself from going nuts-o I made a graph of her temperature over the last week:


The blue line is a.m., the red line is mid-afternoon, and the green line is evening. (Thanks to Elissa for helping me set this up.) As you can see, the red line shows a semi-significant drop from yesterday... which was higher than Thursday, so could easily be completely meaningless. Ru's temp is generally below 100 anyway, so IF there's going to be a big drop before labor starts, it will be in the low-to-mid 98's. Not even close to that at this time.

She does really want me to be with her, however, so I've spent today doing things on the computer (the whelping box and computer both being in the study). She carefully supervised my making changes to the club website (premiums needing posting, photos needed updating), and pretty much lost interest by the time I started ripping CD's to put on my iPod.

I went through our collection and pulled all the female soloist CDs that I didn't already have on the iPod; copied and downloaded: Patsy Cline, Ella Fitzgerald, Alanis Morissette, Jewel, Sarah McLaughlin, Tina Turner, etc.... (yes, of
course the CD's are in alphabetical order. how else would one possibly arrange them??) Then I did all the soundtracks: Big Chill, Forrest Gump, Evita, Phantom, Le Miz, etc.. I already did all the Operas (Don G, Figaro, Fideleo, etc.) and most of the classical (I am a huge fan of violin concerti), so what's next will be male solo artists, followed by bands.

Then I'll have to go buy more CD's to rip, because I'll go insane if I don't have something to do and Rumor gets up to follow me every time I leave the chair. Which is very flattering but sweetie you'll just have to trust me on this, I'm not that fascinating. Really. It's a miracle I got in the shower without her going in, too.

Our daily walk/trot around the pasture was business-as-usual,
too. Chase a bird here, dig a little hole there, sniff this and trot over to that... The problem of course is the mud, and Ru has quite had it with me washing the mudballs out of her feet before she's allowed back in the house. She's very happy to be a ranch dog (and see if she can snarf down horse-poop when I'm not looking) and doesn't understand my obsession with keeping cooties out the whelping box.

I called my friend Laurel, who's been breeding greyhounds for about 45 years, and asked when I should start to panic. She said, in essence, that as long as Ru is: eating, drinking, sleeping, peeing, pooping, and playing + not running a fever + I can feel puppies moving (the little darlings are doing the Macarena today) = don't panic. Monday would be 63 days since the last breeding, so Monday would probably be the day to get concerned. Or not, if all-the-above is still normal.

So, for my birthday, I'd like an extra dose of patience. Seems like I'm going to need it.

2100 update: Hm, maybe that is a real temp drop (green line). Sweet dreams!


Friday, 5 March 2010

Camped Out

I spent last night in a sleeping bag on an air mattress, on the floor next to Rumor's whelping box. Just in case. Other than my complaining about her gassy-ness and her disdainful looks about my snoring, it was uneventful.

This morning's temp was higher than yesterday's, but still a smidge below normal. Her appetite remains hearty, she had a romp on our walk around the pasture, and looks for all the world like she'll stay pregnant for another month. Her temp at 1445 was 100.0 F, which, if Hutchison is to be believed, the temp going back up is "the sign" that labor should start in less than 24 hours.

We'll see. As my friend Sherita says, bitches don't read the books.

The last mare I bred had me waiting for an eternity. The ranch manager called to say she believed the mare would deliver early, as she was bagging up and getting muscle slack. So I drove out with Dot (gotta sleep with somebody!) and the trusty air mattress. And proceeded to sleep in my car for a month while the mare went full term. She dropped a stud colt on a moonless night, precisely 341 days after she was bred, not one minute sooner. Which I slept through, just 10 feet away. Prey animals are masters of sneaky.

I have stacks of books, CDs, and fluffy pillows in between the whelping box and the first aid supplies. Nothing to do but settle in and wait.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

Marking Time

0830: Rumor's temp was a little lower than usual this morning, we'll see what the afternoon measurement shows. I notified the local emergency vet so they know her status.

0930: I re-freshed her coat trim, washed her belly, and changed out the bedding in the whelping box. You can see she's looking very pregnant at this point, and now naps stretched out rather than curled up.


She looks peaceful, doesn't she?

1200 - FINALLY I got a copy of the x-ray from Monday. If you don't want to count skeletons, don't look too closely:


1430 - Ru ate lunch as usual, and her temp check was also lower than yesterday. We'll get another data point before calling this a "trend".

2045 - Appetite normal, temp actually .2 higher than 24 hrs earlier. So, not a trend, possibly even a false alarm.

Time will tell!

Wednesday, 3 March 2010

Puppy Watch: Nesting

No surprise, this is going to be a puppy blog for a while ;-)

Yesterday it was a "maybe" in the afternoon, this morning there are unmistakeable signs that Rumor is nesting. The blankets in the whelping box are in a rumpled pile, sort of circular.

The tray
on the left is the reflector part of the infrared heater. It was covered up, but no, Ru needed the blankets elsewhere.

The whelping box is set up in the study. Lots of privacy, good light, sliding door to the outside, and I spend a lot of time in here. And room for an air mattress for me, so I can sleep in here.


As for her due date, well, let me point out that Anthony arrives home for spring break on Saturday afternoon. So my entry to the puppy pool assumes the worst possible scheduling conflict. Oh well.

Monday, 1 March 2010

Puppy Count, Countdown, and Pool

We took Rumor to the repro vet specialist today for an x-ray to get a count of the puppies in the Ahdin Litter, due the end of this week. I am delighted (and more than a little relieved) that everything is progressing fabulously well and looks to be on track.

So we have a count of complete skeletons (the only kind visible, excellent news), and a best-guess on due date. If anybody's interested in a little just-for-fun puppy pool, post
your guess in the comments: date & time of whelping, total number of puppies, number by sex, number by color / markings. Once the puppies are whelped I'll post the details and we'll see who got the closest.

For those interested in playing, here are some details on the parents:

Py is a self gold, not a black hair anywhere on him. Both his parents red brindles, sire IM, dam self. He has 2 black&brindle sisters, and two spotted sisters. Rumor is a self brindle with silver undercoat. Sire is a black-tipped self brindle, dam a self sabled-red. Rumor has produced two sables, and has a spotted littermate.

And everybody: fingers crossed for an unremarkable delivery with healthy mama and babies, whenever they come!