I've decided we're a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Last month I wrote that we'd just realised our farm dog Pip was in a delicate condition (due to us not realising that a dog we inherited from another farm wasn't as neutered as we thought — ie, not neutered at all).
Our youngest son, Angus, was thrilled about impending puppies and rushed out every morning to check Pip. One morning he forgot his daily check and it was about 9am before he remembered. He came stampeding back in, shouting, "She's had them! She's had them!" Both our sons love playing tricks on us (shouting "Here they aren't!" when we're expecting visitors never gets old. I blame Bruce) so we didn't take him seriously because although Pip's tummy was starting to bulge, I thought we had another couple of weeks up our sleeve at least.
Bruce looked at him closely. "He's got tears in his eyes, he might just be telling the truth."
By this time Angus was just about on his knees begging us to come and see. Sure enough, when we investigated, there Pip was in her kennel with a mound of tiny wriggling puppies, looking slightly horrified. Despite the fact it was her first delivery, she'd done the job all by herself, neatly and tidily, almost as though a stork had dropped them off overnight.
The puppies are hugely entertaining, and a great draw for visitors. We bring them (the puppies, not the visitors) inside for cuddles and over the past four weeks they have developed from squeaky jelly beans into proper fighting, rollicking, chewing pups with distinct personalities.
Pip looked as though she was over motherhood by week two and runs after Bruce on the motorbike whenever she gets the chance, boobs flapping wildly. Makes me wince every time. Right from the start when we went to inspect her babies, she would nudge one towards us with her nose as if to say: "Here you go, take it away and give me a break." She seems to resent visitors giving her babies any attention, shoving her nose in their face and begging for pats.