And Then There Were Three
I had to put one of my precious puppies to sleep today. It was becoming apparent that she had a birth defect. At first, I thought it was a "swimmer puppy" which means its legs are splayed out and it has trouble walking. This can sometimes be corrected. Sadly, it was more serious. It was Pectus Excavatum which is a deformity of the sternum also known as funnel chest. Basically, her chest was malformed making it hard for her to breathe and a host of other problems.
If she had been born in a larger litter and if we had not taken such good care of her and helped her nurse etc. she probably would not have made it as long as she did. It is normal to sometimes lose a puppy and I can't decide if earlier or later in the process is better. Daisy was a good Momma and the puppy did not suffer.
The other two girls and boy are doing great! They are starting to walk, bark, and have little personalities. The boy is by far the most vocal. I think we will name them soon.
No pictures of puppies this time because well, my heart is not in it...but I wanted ya'll to know. I have pondered a name for her and all day I have thought about the story of Gracie at Bonaventure Cemetary in Savannah. Forgive me as I wax nostalgic for a moment. Every Sunday when I was a girl, we would make the rounds at the cemetary. I know this sounds morbid, but I think a lot of people did it back then. Everybody would squeeze into one car and go to ride...to the graveyard( and my kids wonder why I'm crazy!). Either before, or normally after Sunday dinner depending on the season, we would go to Bonaventure and put flowers from the yard at the family gravesite. If there were no blooms, we would rake or pick up sticks.
I think as a kid somebody scared me with a tale of if I walked around her three times then I would hear her talk. I may have been confusing that with Tomochichi's rock. But whatever, I loved and feared going to Bonaventure.