Remember when we got a dog? According to the date on that post it was right around July 1. Today is August 13. A mere 44 days after we took in our sweet little Sammy. 44 days is an important number. Keep it in mind.
Yesterday Greg left work early because of the heat and he got home around 2pm. He told me that he was going to let Sammy in because it was so hot and he felt bad for her. When I got home, I went inside and talked to him for a few minutes before I picked up the kids. I noticed that she wasn’t inside but I figured it was because she kept jumping in bed with him and we don’t like for her to be in our bed (dirty paws = nasty bed).
Normally when I come home with the kids, Sammy is going crazy at the gate because she wants them to play with her. She jumps up and down, barks, licks their faces, etc. Yesterday she didn’t come to the gate when we pulled in. Again, I figured either Greg had let her in the house or it was just too damn hot for her to be her usual energetic self and she was napping in front of the fan in the garage.
Every night, almost without fail, when we are eating dinner, Sammy is scratching at the back door because she knows that we are right there and she wants to come in. Usually the kids beg and plead until Greg gives in and Sammy and the kids are in heaven. The kids sneak bits of food to her and they squeal with delight as she takes the treat from them. Last night; not one scratch. I thought it was a little odd, but again, I chalked it up to either the heat or she had finally learned that I was tired of her scratching at the door.
Every morning, again without fail, the minute a light flips on in our house, Sammy is scratching at the back door. One of her favorite morning games? Run into Brock’s room and wake him up with a face-full of giant slobbery kisses. This morning? Not one little peep. After mom picked the kids up, I said something to Greg about how I hadn’t seen Sammy for a full day and I went outside to check on her. I went out through the garage and didn’t see or hear her. I went outside and yelled her name. She wasn’t anywhere in the yard. As I turned back toward the garage, I saw her coming out from under a pile of crap that Greg has stacked up in a corner. It looked like she had burrowed under some of the stuff and I thought, “Oh poor baby. It’s so damn hot outside and she found a nice cool spot there on the concrete floor.” I went back inside and told Greg. We laughed it off.
I get to work and I had barely sat down at my desk when my phone rang.
It was Greg.
I answered, “Hey baby, what’s up?”
Him: “Um, you are never going to believe this.”
At this point my stomach begins flipping around.
My palms are sweating.
My overactive salivary glands are kicking in.
I feel that it’s important to overshare with my readers.
Me: “Okay . . . what’s going on?” I have to tread lightly since I have no idea what he is about to reveal.
Him: “I found out why Sammy was under that pile of stuff in the garage.”
Me: “If you say she had pup-”
Him: “SHE HAD PUPPIES.”
Me: ” . . . . . .”
Him: ” . . . . . . ”
Me: ” . . . . . . .”
Him: ” . . . . . . ”
Me: “Soooooo . . . .”
Him: “I KNOW!”
Me: “How big are they? How many are there?”
Him: “I don’t know. I can’t get back there very easily but I can see at least one. I walked by her little hiding spot and I heard a whimper. Then I looked a little closer and I saw it.”
Me: “Well how big is it?”
Him: “I dunno. It looks like a tiny little rat. It’s eyes aren’t even open yet!”
Me: “Sooooo, apparently when she was ‘trying to get out of the heat’ she was having BABIES!!!!”
Him: ” . . . . . . ”
Me: ” . . . . . . . ”
Him: “What are we going to do?”
Me: “First I guess we will have to get a head count, take everybody to the damn vet & then make a sign for ‘Free Puppies’ to put by the side of the road.”
Him: “We can’t give them away yet! She just had them!”
It is important that I break from the dialogue here and elaborate a few points.
Yes, I am a bad pet owner and haven’t taken my dog to the vet yet. I know, I know. They would have found this problem if I would have gotten her in sooner yada yada yada. But, we’ve been so damn busy that I haven’t had time to make her an appointment. It’s the very next thing on my to-do list. Pinkie swear.
I googled how long a dog pregnancy lasts and here’s the basic gist: Dogs are pregnant for an average of about 63 days. Remember when I said to remember the number 44? Apparently Sammy was pregnant when we got her. This is exactly why people should be leery of “free” dogs.
Except the “free” dogs that I will be giving away in 6-8 weeks.
Those will be fine.
You can trust me.
. . . Probably.
So basically, I didn’t want a dog.
We got one.
I said that if we did get a dog, I wanted a male so we didn’t have to worry about puppies.
We got a female that was already effing pregnant.
I told Greg this morning that we weren’t keeping any of the puppies.
I would like to end this story on a positive note by thinking that I will win and, in 6-8 weeks we will be back to only one dog. However, history proves that I am outnumbered and I’m sure that, as I am typing this, Greg is at home, naming all of those little rats and building a lovely little wooden box for them so Sammy knows where all of her babies are at all times.
So, who wants a puppy?
Edit: Apparently Sammy only had one in her litter. Which, as far as I can tell, means at least one of a couple of things. 1) Since she is not quite two, maybe her little reproductive system wasn’t quite ready to have babies and she didn’t release as many eggs as normal. 2) She is a freak of nature and is a lab that only had 1 puppy in her litter. 3) She ate the rest of the litter. 4) She didn’t expel all of the babies and I’m going to have a massive vet bill come Monday morning. I’m really hoping it is anything but #4. We will be keeping a very close eye on her this weekend though and if I suspect anything sinister going on, we will be making a trip to the emergency vet’s office.
Now, for the part that most of you have been waiting for . . . baby pictures!
I was able to sneak into the garage and snap a couple of shots of the new momma and baby. We tried to bring them into the house to show the kids and Sammy lost her shit. She literally freaked out when Brock tried to touch the puppy so we, very quickly, put the two of them back outside. She was much happier out there and so was the puppy. I know that the puppy could sense that Sissy hadn’t eaten yet and was getting very nervous.
P.S. Brock already named the puppy Jude. I asked him, “What if it’s a girl?” His response: “Den hers name weaw be Jude!” So, yeah. I’m pretty sure that we are stuck with Sammy & Jude 🙂