Critical

I sit on the floor holding a little life in my hands. 2 days old and sweet, fragile, yet so strong. The small one makes a noise and Mama looks at me with intense eyes. I hand back her baby, one of 6. She sniffs it, cleans it, and puts her head down. The others are eating attached to her. She sighs. I tell her I love her and that she’s a good mama.

The pups crawl very well, and one had gotten away from her after birth, or was born dead. I found that one away from the other 6. I brought them all into the house. She was not happy at first. She had chosen a secluded part of the yard, but I wanted them inside. Is that right or wrong, I don’t know? I had heard the sounds of new life earlier that day, but decided to leave things be. I Came back after dark and put the small babies in the bottom part of a small kennel with a sheet, and brought them in, with mama following. She seemed worried, I think, that I’d take them away from her. That was not my plan, I just wanted them safe and warm. I took them upstairs, a place she knew she was not to come, but now is different, and there was a room for her and her pups to be in undisturbed from the other two adults dogs in the house.

The father is a small terrier mix, ahem, cockapoo, dachshund, german shepherd, terrier, grandson of Ralph the Wonder dog, the cockapoo, and Vicki, the dachshund german shepherd. His own father had been a terrier mix.

Mama is a medium boxer terrier something. He is 12, she 1.5. Shall we be critical? I thought he was shooting blanks, but some 60 days later, no. 7 little pups were born, and the puppy mama grew up fast. Papa seems indifferent. Auntie is curious. I love new life as it is a miracle, and time will tell more. No need now to worry about the future now.

The young mama is good with them, but looks so tired. The next 3 months will be a whole new adventure as the wee ones grow.

Critical

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