[My very pregnant dog.]
It wasn't a big loss, not like miscarriage or child loss. A couple of months ago, my Pomeranian got pregnant. I was able to feel babies moving and kicking in there, reminding me of my advanced pregnancies of so long ago. This is my little sweet doggie I got over the summer. She is six pounds and so has felt like a baby to me, even though she's between four and seven years old. We watched her nest and got all excited to watch her give birth. I've never actually seen a dog of mine give birth. I saw the last few babies of my friend's chiweenie come out in their individually-wrapped packages, so I thought I knew what to expect.
[Snoopy, the angel pup.]
Except the first one came out without a placenta. It was maybe a bit large, hard to push out for such a tiny dog. It wasn't moving, but she wouldn't let us check it or hold it. I ran looking for one of those bulbs to pull out mucus, but I couldn't find one. I was only told when it was too late there were a few things I could have done to prepare for this moment. Even as I held his little inert form and tried to rub life into him after someone suggested it, I knew he was gone. It was too late. My husband buried little Snoopy, the white dog with black spots, in the same place where we'd buried newborn kittens that didn't make it a few years ago. It only struck me later when someone suggested the things I could have done but also that maybe my angel Alli wanted a puppy, too, that this hurt like another loss. That this tiny little loss was hitting at all those places I keep hidden, even from myself, especially as the holidays approach. Tears formed for my loss now, for the possibility that this little boy could have been saved, and for my losses before, Alli and the string of miscarriages. I never knew this puppy, but he brought with him and then took out a string of possibilities and hopes for the future, like any baby.
[The first that lived.]
We'd been told Snow only gives birth two one or two babies, so I was afraid this was the only one, that my horrified girl saw in the box, that would come at this time. I was afraid I'd have to chase her upstairs and explain that her hopes to at last hand raise that puppy of her own were dashed. We've gotten puppy after puppy plus the occasional full grown dog, and with each one, she hoped this was the one that would look to her above all others only to have it join my pack of worshipers. I didn't want to tell her here during the holiday season that we were going to fix Snow because this was the result of months of anticipation. But then, I looked in the box again, and there was a little, yellow body, and it was moving. It was exactly the color I envisioned, between the mommy's pale cream and he daddy's vibrant orange brown. The black-and-white of the stillborn had been a bit of a shock. We chased the new mommy around and hold her down to be able to cut the umbilical since her teeth were mostly gone since her care had been neglected by the backyard breeder from which she came. I worried this little baby didn't have a fighting chance by itself, but this was two out of two we'd been told to expect.
[The second that lived.]
I washed off mom and gave the two some privacy in my room since the mom kept barking at anyone who came through the living room, and I was worried she'd trample the little yellow one. A short time later, my sister and her kids came over for dinner and to see the puppy. Except instead of one little squirmy body in the box, there were two, including a strong, healthy one that looked a lot like Snoopy, the little one my husband buried. Three. We'd hoped but didn't dare expect a third. This one came with the placenta, so we knew this was the end. I don't know why having a second Snoopy makes me feel so much better about having lost the first, but it does. With the stronger puppy there, the two survived the first night and cry out with a will to live every time their mom moves or goes out to go potty. And she freaks out at any real or perceived threat to her little bundles. I find I don't envy my dog her new babies like I may have a few years ago. I'm not young anymore and am past the age when mom stopped giving birth to the seven of us. I no longer long for a bundle of my own. So I will live vicariously through my dog and hope and pray these two little ones stick around to bring someone joy, maybe even us for one of them. But in the meantime, I will still mourn the loss of that little pup that came first and the whole line of losses his brings to the surface. 'Tis the season for loss to hurt more, but 'tis also the season of hope that we'll see each other again.
