Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Tiny T

Life is crazy.
We welcomed both litters of puppies on December 26, 2012. Whelping went well, and for the most part, the mamas just did their thing as I sat back and made sure all was well. Of course it was.
Timber had 11 strong, beautiful, healthy puppies.
Zailey had 10 little spotty puppies, one being a little runt, reminding me so much of little Anna in her previous litter. I spent the following week feeding little Taylor every hour, only getting broken fragments of sleep and seeing that she is OK. She grew stronger, healthier, and was thriving. Jon and I had gotten quite attached to her by this point and were having difficulty with the idea of selling her. How can you just sell a baby you raised by hand? Unfortunately last night, Taylor nosedived. My vet thinks that she got kicked or stepped on in her whelping box enough to put her body in shock, and my supplementing her just wasn't enough because she was so small.  I stayed up, all through the night, feeding her every half hour, getting sugar in her, keeping her warm. She passed away early this afternoon. Loss is a part of breeding. Puppies will occasionally die, it's part of nature and the logical part of my mind knows and accepts that.
The not-so-logical and perhaps too-emotional side of my mind.... well, that side is having a hard time today. I held her moments after she was born. I spent several sleepless nights with her, bonding, and loving her. I carefully placed a hot pink ribbon around her neck, named her Taylor, and watched her become stronger. I weighed her every night, and celebrated her wonderful gains. And then.... I held her weak body in my hands once again. I talked to her. I apologized to her. I fed her. I stimulated her. She passed away once and I was able o give her CPR and revive her. At the point I accepted she wasn't going to make it, I tucked her in my shirt, against my chest, and loved her til her last breath.
I know she's "just a puppy who I only had for 12 days" but these puppies... they're my life right now. They're what I DO. They're my passion. In MY world, it's the saddest of tragedies. I don't remember the last time I felt so empty, or cried so hard.
It made me question everything. Did I make a mistake? Could I have done something better? Could I have prevented it? Am I even cut out for this harsh world of dog breeding?!
I know there's a lesson in everything, and that everything happens for a reason. Today, I am too sad to figure all that out. I just believe this world wasn't worthy of just a perfect little soul. Run free, sweet Taylor. Run free.

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