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 thought about a name for her since we had not yet done that 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. When I was a girl every Sunday, 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.
Anyway, I would often get bored and walk around and right down from our plot was Gracie's plot. It now has a fence around it, but when I was a girl it did not. You could go right up to it. It was and still is a lifesize monument of a little girl who was beloved by her family who died very young. For some reason it always scared me especially because her nose was chipped a little. 
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.
Funny how the death of a three week old puppy can make you stop, reflect, and remember.
Funny how the death of a three week old puppy can make you stop, reflect, and remember.
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