here we go again . . .

I had thought that my days as puppy nursemaid were over, but I received a phone call from my father this morning at 6:26 to tell me that Sydney had killed all but two puppies and Jocilyn was about beside herself. Could I come down and help? So here I am again, just finished with the second feeding, getting ready to do it again in another hour or so, and I've been pooped and peed on, which is encouraging since the last two had trouble with bowl movements, but not exactly what you want to wake up to.

I have tagged each puppy (I cant say named, since mom will get me for becoming to attached), anyway, I call the one Bear, because that's what she looks like. I turn her on her back to feed her, and she looks just like a little bear cub. She has been given a poor chance of survival, because she has an eye infection, and several cuts to her nose/ head. The second puppy is Wolf, because that's what she sounds like. I turn her on her back to feed and she arches her head up and howls. She has been given a fifty-fifty chance of survival because she has no visible wounds and a pair of lungs that would shame an opera singer. Even as I type she is doing her things, which is a short aroo over and over. She has not stopped since 6:30 this morning.

And so goes life on the farm, whether they live or die, or whether their around for years or days, animals always seem to make some impact on your life.