The Whelp

   

      Early spring, March, and Theia was bred to Magnum; two virgin creatures that rather have company in the “love pen” than not.  Neither dog would react to the other if I were not physically inside the ten foot by eight-foot dog pen to watch over the breeding. The outdoor pen was built for Theia to use during puppy-hood, since maturity and now long abandon the woods, grasses and weeds stacked their claim however, and it was repaired and cleared out for the breeding and dubbed the “love pen”. 

     I was as virgin about breeding dogs as the dogs were about mating. A week of estimating the timing,   guidance from friends at the vets we were successful.  Sixty-three days later Theia whelped a littler of nine healthy, sturdy, yellow Labrador retrievers all of whom resembled little piglets more than puppies with their pushed in bright pink noses, pudgy bodies, tiny otter tails and little grunting noises.  Willow was the ninth pup delivered at 3:17 AM on May 30, 1996.  She was still unclaimed and unnamed at that point.

        For several anxious hours, she paced outside the house in an attempt to nest under bushes.  I escorted her to the whelp box where she began to give birth

      Theia belongs to my sister.  At the time she had two children ages six and eight year old who wanted to watch the event, but when the evening wore on the kids began to fall asleep slouched on the couch.  My sister even dozed, finally around 11:30 PM the first pup arrived. 

     I woke my sister and the two of us cooed and stroked Theia as she let nature take its coarse.  The first, a male, was all yellow and even before the he was cleaned and suckling the second began to arrive.    

     “They all look the same, they’re all yellow.”  My sister muttered as she slung a last child over her shoulder and disappeared to their beds.   

    Alone with Theia now and I hoped the process would go smoothly and she would handle the situation.  Every fifteen to twenty minutes she whelped a puppy until sleep over came us both around 2:15 AM.  Feeling her belly before dozing off, I sensed there was one more puppy waiting to come into this world and finally an hour later she made her appearance.  It took a while for Theia to clean the sack off the pups face and time passed, I stepped in to help, but clearly this one wasn’t breathing yet.  Theia worked diligently licking the pup and gently blowing into her miniature nostrils as she did.  I was struck by this instinctive attempt to resuscitate, Theia new this puppy wasn’t breathing, she was healthy and required air and worked until successful.  The gently puffs she delivered with each lick were enough to get the pup breathing on her own.  There was a brief moment of panic in my heart as I thought this ninth puppy was not going to survive as she began to turn just slightly in color. 

         Once cleaned up and breathing on her own the ninth and last puppy born instinctively began to search for sustenance.  I had to complete the clean process since Theia was too exhausted to lift her head after successfully getting the pup to breath.  Her job was completed.  Squirming across the sheet, struggling in the darkness and driven by instinct, the last puppy edged closer to my armpit.  Marveled by her strength, beauty and perfectly formed miniature canine features, I savored this moment.  The nudging in my armpit tickled, eventually picking her up, I plugged her into a nipple on Theia’s belly.  I liked this little one, seconds old and we already had a soul touching moment.  Not wanting to make any hasty decisions, there were after all two other female from which to choose.  I pushed the encounter out of mind.  Sleep over came us all, canines and human.  In silence, a new journey was beginning to unfold.