it's PuppyTime!

Molly's big babies - one day old

Not the best photo but enough for introductions. These little piggies were born less than 24 hours after their mama took up residence here, in the puppy house.
The brown and white one is the only male.

It's been a tough journey for the sweet mom, Molly.  She's gone from being someone's baby, herself, to being a stray.  She was held at the shelter for the requisite 72 hours without being claimed and then transferred here, to deliver her babies among strangers.  As it turned out, she had to have an emergency c-section after the pups were born so there was another round of out-the-door and back, before she was able to settle in and she's been a sweetheart, throughout.  But the truth is, although she's safe and warm with her little family, my pack of yappers is disturbed by the presence of this dog they've yet to meet.  They mill around her yard, sniffing and whining, releasing their excitement by fighting with each other just outside the gate.  Not the best environment for making Molly feel welcome and relaxed.  Periodically, she'll come out the doggie door, pissed and snarling, to shut them up and I can't blame her.  I do the same thing, from time to time.

Though she seems sad, Molly has met and welcomed lots of folks without the least sign of aggression, since the puppies were born.  She appeared to be delighted with the arrival of my little grandsons, gently bumping against them and reaching up to kiss their cheeks.  Apparently, the presence of young ones can be healing when you're going through heartache, whether you have two legs or four.   I just wonder if there isn't some family out there, missing Molly as much as she seems to be missing them.

it's different

around here without Watty.  There's a stillness returned that i guess we hadn't realized was missing.  Was, anyway, a stillness...till about 4:00 when rottencocker Max ate half a jar of wood putty before i caught him and raced off to the vet.  It was only six weeks ago when he spent the night in the emergency room after helping himself to a bottle of Advil.  He's actually just getting back to health after that close call and I guess he was maybe a little unsettled by the quiet, needing some excitement like an addict needing a fix.  Like me if i don't get my morning coffee.

The rest of us, me and the pack, reacted differently.  We had a nice nap.  No more hurried trips up and down the stairs to go outside.  Nobody climbing on us and biting our ears.  It was a relief after the weeks of puppy busyness to just lie around weeping cause he's gone.  I'm not denying it hurts.  It does.  But this old body's tired and in need of some recovery and well, I guess 24 hours has to be enough cause I've got a new pregnant tenant arriving this morning.

I haven't met Molly yet but she sounds like a sweetheart...some kind of grinning tan mix who came in as a stray...a healthy, well-fed, well mannered dog who, we have to assume, only recently found herself on the street.  But nobody came to claim her and it's just by the grace of Watty's adoption that there's room for her in foster care.  There wasn't time for us to have a meet & greet at the shelter cause she's apparently close to delivery time and if she doesn't get out of there fast, neither she nor her puppies will survive. 

I'll take notes and send pictures as the new adventure unfolds.

So...we'll see...

if it happens or not.  The young man in question turned out to be gentle and soft spoken.  He said that he and his girlfriend had been waiting two years to get a puppy and now that they have a yard, they're ready.  He made his application but it's not final till he pays the fee, so I haven't started counting chickens.  There were several other folks interested in Watson, also and by today I'm ready to let him go.  The surprising bit was how many people, seeing the photo of his mama, asked if they could adopt her.  And another surprise, for me, was that I want to say yes.  It makes me feel terribly guilty to admit that, but although I'm attached to Peach, she's golden.  She's the darling that everyone wants.  She can have a good home in minutes.  And if I let her go, I'll have the space and time to foster another, less perfect one whose chances don't look so good.

I stayed at the shelter till closing, allowing maximum exposure for Watty, who shivered and hid in a corner most of the time he was alone.  Apparently that pulled at a few heart strings so he was in and out of the display window frequently, being cuddled and loved on while I walked some of the big dogs.  It was good to be back working.  It was good to be reminded that what I want is not more dogs for myself but to help more of them find homes.  I don't know why I keep having to learn this lesson over and again, but reason doesn't seem to settle in the heart, as love does.

Loving and letting go, that's the process I've signed up for.  And I'm thinking it must be part of my soul's journey, part of some greater purpose, as it must be for other folks out there who foster kids and critters, cause by any other standard it starts to look like a pretty odd choice.

Watson's got an interview today...

and i'm feeling sad.  i'd love to keep him but i've learned that 5 dogs is just too many for me.  or maybe the limit's 4 dogs and a puppy.  (allowing here for the unforseen...like yesterday when i picked up this huge hound near my house...a beautiful, sweet fellow who, when i'd found his home, refused to get out of the car and who, of course, i wish i'd just kept.)

i was sure we were making great progress on the house training but the dream ended last night when Watty got out of his crate and woke me after he'd done all the business he could do on the rug.  apparently I was making great progress in anticipating his potty needs through an unnatural (for me) level of diligence.  what i see is that this will be a long process and that i can only maintain that kind of focus for a limited time without falling over.  so we're headed for the shelter, despite my reservations.

after talking with the prospective adopter, after having a think on it, i'm not sure this will work out well for Watson.  the young man in question, who seems nice enough, is looking to get a puppy for his girlfriend, for valentine's day. YIKES.  first of all, even though she's apparently expressed a desire to have a pup, wouldn't you assume she'd like to choose it herself?  maybe she's thinking of a fluffy white ragmop that she can name Zoe.  maybe she's thinking of a dog she can accessorize and carry around in her purse for the next 12-15 years, which is the average life-span of a small dog.  Watty's gentle and cuddly, but he's also an active little fellow and he'd rather be digging holes than dangling in a bag.

oh, my trepidation grows, even as i realize i'm making wild assumptions.  even as i look down at my sweet little foster baby, passed out across my arm and making it a struggle to type this, even as i look past him at the chaos of squeaky toys and chew sticks and shreds of stuffings he's left all across the floor, even as i do the math that says i'll be 80 when Watson gets to be 15!, even with that reality chilling my bones, i'm asking myself do i have to let him go?