LETTER FOR ABBEY This was received via email from the USA and it was felt that Members would enjoy it – hope we were right! Our dog Abbey died Aug. 23, and the day after Abbey died, my 4 year old, Meredith, was SO upset. She wanted to write a letter to God so that God would recognize Abbey in heaven. She told me what to write, and I did. Then she put 2 pictures of Abbey in the envelope. We addressed it
to God in Heaven, put two stamps on it (because, as she said, it could
be a long way to heaven). We put So today is Labor Day. We took the kids to the museum in Austin, and when we came home, there was a package wrapped in gold on our front porch. It was addressed to Mer. So, she took it inside and opened it. Inside was a book, When Your Pet Dies, by Mr. Rogers (Fred Rogers). On the front cover was the letter we had written to God, in its envelope (opened). On the opposite page was one of the pictures of Abbey taped on the page. On the back page was the other picture of Abbey, and this handwritten note on pink paper: "Dear Mer, Thank you for your beautiful letter. Thank your mother for sending it. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. God blesses you every day and remember, I love you very much. By the way, I am in Heaven and everywhere there is love. Signed,
THE WHELPING In 2004 I was awaiting my Quest’s (Ch Julita Regal Request) second litter with anticipation but for some reason not with my usual eagerness, I felt a little anxious, but could not say why. I had found that it was later than usual when I felt movement in her, but she was her usual bouncy self except for slowing down somewhat in the last weeks due to getting quite large. Around 10 days before she was due to whelp, Peter and I both noticed that she was licking her front legs a bit from time to time, and we told her to stop without really thinking too much about it. Also the dogs who live next door to us worried me a bit as they would keep coming across the field and running up and down our fence barking; ours of course thought this was a great game and rushed up and down with them being very vocal at the same time. Quest would go with them and I stopped her a number of times, as I was a bit bothered about her running quite so fast and furiously being in whelp. The due date arrived, which was a Wednesday, and apart from looking a bit worried Quest did not do anything to make me believe that she was about to ‘produce’. However, to be sure, I kept her in overnight and she slept in our bedroom that night and the next one, I remember waking a number of times during these nights, especially the Thursday, and she was licking my hand when I reached out to touch her, but she seemed fine. On Friday, she refused breakfast; ah I thought here we go she never refuses food! However, apart from a very desultory scratching up once or twice in the day, nothing happened although I stayed with her all the time and kept watch. She refused her evening meal as well and I ate my dinner early expecting her to whelp during that evening. At 5pm she demanded to go out and I went with her, she mooched around for a while and then suddenly she crouched down and her waters broke with a great WHOOSH (I have never seen it go so violently before), I was pleased thinking that things were really happening and we returned to the whelping room, but as she walked into the box I noted just a few drops of bright red blood on the floor. A quick check showed that she was not losing any more and I decided to leave it for the moment and keep watch. She had a glucose drink but sicked it up almost immediately. One and a half hours later she had only had a couple of mild strains and after ringing a friend who has many litters of Retrievers; I rang my Vet, my friend having told me that she had never seen blood at this stage. By this time it was of course ’out of hours’ but the On Call Vet called me back very quickly and we discussed things. He (Keith) said that he wanted me to give her another 40 minutes and if nothing happened by then, he would like her brought to the Surgery. My thoughts went immediately to a Caesarian which I had never had and was not keen on having this time. Keith was not worried about the blood loss as it had been very slight and had not continued. He did in fact ring me back before I could ring him and as nothing more than one minor strain had occurred, we agreed to meet at the surgery. When Peter and I got there he examined her and said that she was fully dilated and that he wanted to put her on a glucose drip for a while, give her calcium and if that did not start her, then he would use Oxytocin. I said that this worried me as I knew that Oxytocin was not generally to be given unless the bitch had already had a puppy. We waited and nothing happened except that she was sick again, bringing up some watery liquid, so he said he was going to give her a little Oxytocin, this he did at about 9.15pm and at 9.45pm she finally had two reasonable strains and produced a puppy, she was standing up to deliver it with a greatly arched back, and I felt that it was very painful for her despite the fact that she did not complain. We were all delighted (Niki the nurse had arrived by this time) and Quest ate the afterbirth as usual and settled down with the dog puppy to feed him. However, she was not settled for long and this pleased me as I thought that she was going to have further puppies now and all would be fine. Not so, she sicked up all of the afterbirth and looked worried about this, she moved around, but was wagging her tail, and wanted the pup with her, but as soon as he started to feed she did not want him any more. We waited for some time and Keith gave her a further Oxytocin injection, but this only produced a few small strains and no puppies. All the time we thought that as she had had one pup she would continue, we all believed that she was now OK and that the rest would follow in nature’s time. Eventually, at 1.10am Keith came to me and said that he thought he was going to have to do a Caesarean, as it was obvious that she was not going to have the pups normally; at this stage, I could still feel lots of movement inside her. I agreed as I felt the same as him and just said as he took her out ‘ do not worry about the puppies, just bring my little girl back to me’ and Keith reassured me that she would be fine and not to worry, she was very tired at this time and swayed when she got up. She also had pale gums I had noted (shock setting in?), he did say that the stitching up of her could take some time, even as long as the operation, so not to worry if it seemed a while. Time went by as we waited, at one stage I passed the Operating Theatre en route to the toilet and heard Niki say something about Adrenalin and this worried me. Peter tried to suggest that this would be for a puppy, but I knew better. I was getting more and more stressed and worried when Niki brought two bitch puppies in for us to ‘try to revive’, we had no chance they were well dead, although we did make the attempt. I believe that this was just to take my mind off the length of time that Quest had been in Theatre. Time went on and at exactly 3am I said to Peter that Quest had died, he told me not to be silly, the time delay was just as Keith had said, taking a while to stitch her up, but I was not convinced and got more and more stressed and overwrought. (You wonder afterwards why you did not demand to know more, but I was in no fit state. However, I am well aware that a caesarean does not take this sort of time normally). Peter was worried about ME by this time, so eventually went down the corridor and spoke to them, coming back to tell me that I had been right, Quest was not doing well, she had ‘died’ twice on the table but they had now got her back and that she had had four more puppies, making a total of seven. He told me that they were working on her but it did not look good. I KNEW, I had known it for some time, I really went into one then and Peter got very concerned about me, he even thought I was going to have a heart attack – I was shouting, telling her to fight and fight , not to leave me etc etc. Peter went and asked for the puppies that were alive so that I had something to do and two were brought out to us so I was able to keep them warm and cuddle them, one dog and one bitch. I do not know exactly what time Keith came to tell us that he felt she had lost the fight, but he was not giving up just yet although he did not hold out much hope. I was devastated and realised that I had not said goodbye to her, so Peter asked if I could go in and see her. I did this with some trepidation but was able to say my goodbyes and give her lots of kisses, she was still just alive at this stage but there really was no hope. As we came out I suddenly had a thought and asked if there was a possibility of the puppies getting any colostrum from her, Keith said he would try and took the three pups in and he and Niki got them on her and they had quite a while and got a good start. At this stage I knew that I had to get out into the fresh air, so I drove home and began to try to find a foster Mum for the pups. Keith brought Peter and the pups back about 45 minutes later, along with some milk powder for them and some teats and feeding bits and pieces. I tried to think of anyone who might be around early before going to the WSSC Championship Show, and eventually got Christine McDonald who was leaving to drive to Coventry very soon. I asked her if she knew of any dogs who had recently whelped, but she could not help in that way, she did suggest calling a local CKCS breeder who often had pups, but I could not do this until later on I felt, it was then only 6am. She promised to broadcast my predicament at the show and hopefully to find a foster mum or anyone who would be able to take them, I would have taken each of them to separate places anywhere in the country if required. I knew that I should feed the pups but somehow I could not make myself do it, I was blaming myself – the puppies – the Vet – anyone I could think of for the loss of my dog, but when you come down to it, there is no-one to blame I suppose, these things happen and we just have to accept it, it is nature’s way. I think I believed at that time that I was going to lose the pups as well, so there was no point in trying with them. At this very low stage, I got a phone call from Gill Tully, she and Christine were travelling together and had been phoning around and talking, trying to think of someone to help me. They had been lucky enough to ring a friend who knew that Di Butcher had been whelping her Lhasa Apso that very morning, they had telephoned her and she IMMEDIATELY said that she would take them....... when given this information, I suddenly had an aim, to get the pups to their foster mum – this meant that I had to keep them alive until we could do this, so for the next few hours I constantly fed them one after the other with small amounts of milk, which they took as if born to it – no problem there. Peter had to go to the Surgery at 10am to fetch Quest back and I asked for the four babies as well, he returned with them all and we decided that we would put her in the field we had recently purchased behind the house, she would not be too lonely as she had her four babies with her. We then set off to Di’s house in Mistley some 40 minutes drive, with the pups on my lap. Gizzie, the lhasa was amazing, Di just took one of the pups and popped him in under her back legs, she turned round on him and flipped him over, then started to clean him, after which he latched on and so did the other two when given to her. She seemed quite content and we left after profuse thanks to Di. I came home and now had no pups and no Quest, I was bereft, the house seemed so empty when I should have been stressed out ensuring that Quest did not lay on her babies and making sure that they were all feeding – but no – the empty whelping box mocked me and upset me each time I looked at it. I cleared up the room and put as much away as I could so that I would not be reminded all the time. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * THE PUPPIES Since then I have had SO MUCH support from my friends, and from people in dogs, not only welshies but people I know from other breeds. The dog world is a very small one at times and every phone call, letter, bunch of flowers, email or message that reached me was enormously appreciated and helped a lot – I have kept every one. I think the very best thing that happened was that Carina from Sweden was over for the Club Show with her husband, Hubert, and the plan had been to have them to stay with us after Birmingham Champ. Show – they wondered if they should come now, but I assured them that they should. Once they were in the house, I had to get up, I had to make meals, I had to talk to them, I had to take them out and entertain them, and this was not only the hardest thing to do, but the very best thing for me to do at that time, I just was not able to sit and wallow in my misery as I might well have done without them. The left on the Wednesday, having visited the pups with me as they were having a dog, and by that time I was able to function again, so thank you Carina and Hubert for being there, the timing was just right. The puppies were doing fine, Gizzie was doing them so very well, they grew visibly every time I visited them and when their eyes opened, I felt that I could perhaps believe that they would survive, and they did. They were weaned at two and a half weeks and came home to me at three and a half weeks, looking slightly unusual in that they had ‘pink’ on their muzzles and front legs, from excessive licking by Gizzie we believed. I was SO pleased to have them home and took lots of photos, but they were not very keen on eating their meal at lunchtime and I had noted on the drive home that one of the dogs was a bit ‘sniffly’. He got worse and had mucous coming from his nose, then the others started to wheeze a bit – I was worried and did not leave them, I syringed milk into them as they were not keen on food. I rang the Vet and took them to the Surgery where they were checked over, they all had raised temperatures and were given liquid Synulox which we administered as instructed. I stayed with them all night and they did not want to eat at all, so I continued to syringe Lactol into them at regular intervals which kept them going but by morning I was again very worried and we rang the Vet again, there was now lots of mucous and also the Synulox seemed to make them sick, so they were getting very little of it. I insisted on a call out and the Vet came within half an hour, she gave them an injection each as their temperatures were giving great cause for concern, the big dog was very high, with the smaller dog slightly lower and the bitch the lowest of all. At this stage the boys were very ‘flat’ and somewhat ‘damp’ and could not be bothered to do anything at all, the bitch had been a bit better and had taken a bit of mince from me and kept it down. This being the Thursday, the Vet said that she would call again on the Saturday and give them another injection, and wished me good luck with them as she left. We kept on trying to get them to eat and they took minute amounts, but not nearly enough. The Vet had left some Science Diet and suggested that we tried to get them to take some as it contained all that they needed, we liquidised this and they did take a small amount. Peter stayed with them that night so that I could get some sleep, and I believe that if it had not been for his attention to them during those hours, they would not have survived. He fed them every two hours with the liquidised Science Diet and milk and when I got up the next morning, I came downstairs expecting to hear bad news, but he told me that he thought they had ‘turned the corner’. I could not believe my eyes when I saw them making attempts to move around and even to play. During that day they continued to improve and began to eat small amounts of proper food, the Vet called in the late afternoon as she was ‘passing’ and she was also amazed and told me that she really had thought that they would not live overnight! They had another injection on the Saturday and a further one on the Monday ‘just to be sure’ and from then on they thrived. With hindsight we believe that the ‘pink’ colour of their coats was from Gizzie licking them to remove the mucous that we could not see at that time. The coats took some time to return to normal, but when they left for the new homes, they were the usual lovely red and clear white. Many have asked me why I did not keep the bitch myself – yes I did intend to for the first 10 days or so, but then sense cut in, I had a young pup I had bought in just before this terrible time and this pup would have been too close in age to her. Also I know that I would have compared the pup with her Mum which would not have been fair, so I finally decided that she should go to the owner who had originally booked her and I will have a pup back from her in a few years time. I do not regret this decision. * * * * * * * * * * * THE AFTERMATH When the pups were about 5 weeks old, Keith and Niki and the Senior Partner of the practice, Andrew Scott, came to see me at my request as I felt that I needed to know a lot more about what had happened and why – if possible. Keith and Niki were delighted to see the pups bouncing with health after all the traumas, I expect it is rare for a Vet to see the pups that they have brought into the world via Caesarian, when they are ‘real little dogs’, and I think it was helpful to them too. Andrew and Keith fully explained to me how a Caesarian is done and I was told that the rupture was near to where the horns join together, this was also the site of the ruptured blood vessel which was another cause of the shock that contributed to Quest’s death. I knew already that she was in a pretty bad way when we decided to operate, I had noted that she was weak and swayed on her legs and had also noted that her gums were a bit pale at that point. However, although I was glad to more fully understand what had occurred during the operation, I was more interested in finding out the cause of the rupture and at what point it was likely to have happened. I had thought that the rupture occurred when the waters went with such a ‘gush’ followed by the blood loss, and this is actually fairly likely, but Andrew felt that there was probably a weakness prior to that occurrence. We discussed the next door dogs running up and down our fence and ours chasing them, and decided that this was a possible cause. She could either have turned very sharply (as she did) and slightly twisted the womb and then it would ‘undo’ – OR – she may well have been knocked by one of the other dogs (I had four and a puppy at that time). When I also told Andrew that I had noted a lot of leg licking around that time, which I know suggests pain or at least discomfort in a dog, we decided that this scenario is the most likely. Although of course the weakening could have happened at any time, we will never know. So, I now believe that all was fine for the first 7 to 8 weeks but at some point, she was knocked or her womb slightly twisted, creating a weakness in it. The pups were very active right up to her due date, although a little late in moving around originally; so I am sure they were fine and the actual rupture did not occur until the 3rd of September when the waters broke, although she was obviously not right for a couple of days prior to this, and was possibly in some discomfort for 10 days or so prior to the 3rd of September (leg and foot licking). The puppies were all perfectly formed and full term, with no sign of having been dead for any length of time. In case any reader is now concerned about this happening to them my Vet Andrew, says he has not encountered a ruptured uterus in a dog in all his years of practice. Steve Dean, a Vet who writes for Dog World, and to whom I had sent an email asking for him to write about this, also states that he has never seen one. I have not been able to find anyone in Welshies in UK who has had one in a bitch, this condition is extremely rare and it is even more rare to lose the puppies AND the bitch. This does not help me, as it DID happen to me and I know that I have now lost the will to breed from my own dogs for the moment. Luckily my next home bred litter is likely to be from my young pup, so it is a few years away (if ever!) and in the meantime I need to be in on as many litter births as possible to get my nerve back. I always said that having a litter was ‘wonderful’ for me, a minor miracle that I really enjoyed. I do hope that I can get back to feeling that way again one day. Andrew did say to me at our meeting that Keith was really ‘lucky’ to have seen this so early in his career – this was not as unthinking as it seems, as I agree that at least he will now have an idea of how a ruptured uterus may present, and if my loss ensures the life of another loved pet, then she did not die in vain. In the meantime Quest lives on in her son ‘Archie’ in Sweden, her namesake son ‘Quest’ in the USA and her daughter ‘Tilly’ in Kent, all with her wonderful temperament. A child from Tilly (Julita The Quest Continues at Trosley)) will hopefully return to live with us at Furzelands Farm in a few years, and remind us of her lovely grandmother and maybe help to fill that great big hole in our lives. Julie Revill
Don't take this the wrong way, but for the longest time now, I have been trying to imitate my dog. Not his look, which is furry and red and white. Not his walk, which, as with most welshies, is more of a wiggle. And not his tail. I don't need a tail. I have enough trouble buckling my pants as it is, although it would be a great way to do dusting. Also, I can live without his bathroom habits, which can be summed up this way: "Tree or bush? Tree or bush? Aw, how about right here on the grass..." No, what I admire about my dog is his fascination, joy,
exuberance and contentment with the simple routine of life. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy!" he says, panting and drooling. "It's morning and I'm gonna eat! I can't wait! I can't wait!" Never mind that he has eaten the same time every morning since he was born. Or that he's had the same food every morning since he was born - and that was 11 years ago! It's still "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, I can't wait!" Never mind. He pulls me downstairs and waits breathlessly, his whole body wriggling and vibrating with excitement as I scoop yet another helping of boring brown nuggets into his bowl. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy! This is great, great! Food, food, food!" I yawn, contemplating going back to bed. Three minutes later, he is off the food thing and into
a new obsession: A whole new spasm of body language, face in a huge grin,
eyes bright and shiny and alert. Again, he runs forward and backward
and around and up and down. Never mind that going out to the back yard has not changed
one bit since we've lived here. He is so thrilled by the notion of "exit"
that he almost bites the doorknob off. He bolts into the backyard as
if heading The great outdoors. Then comes the 'bathroom routine'
which I already have described. Humans deal with these functions begrudgingly.
Not my dog. It's a real thrill for him. He scouts for the perfect spot
as if looking for beach front real estate. It doesn't matter that he was in just two minutes ago. "Things have changed! Things have changed!" he seems to pant. "I gotta get in there! What's she doing? Huh? Huh? I gotta check it out! Hurry up, hurry up!" When I open the door, he bolts in, races back and forth - looking for aliens, I suppose - and when he doesn't find any, he isn't disappointed. Instead, he snarls at some ratty toy he's played with for months, throws it into the air with his teeth, and watches it land. "Look at that," he seems to say. "It goes up, it comes down!" As I make a cup of coffee, he jumps up to watch. "Whatcha doin? Whatcha doin? Coffee, huh? That's amazing!" He then clamps on to my leg and does a dance that, were
it the early '50s, I might call the 'Hootchie Coo'. I am not sure what
he gets out of this - "Oh boy, a leg! Oh boy, a leg!" - but
he seems to be having a better time than many of the dates I've had.
When I disengage and disappear behind a door, he lies down outside and
waits for me to come The sunny side. Now, my dog does not work. He does not
pay taxes. He does not create anything new (unless you consider the
bushes outside). But he also doesn't need clothes, doesn't covet cars
or jewelry, and doesn't care about houses, as long as he can find a
sunny spot on the floor and lie there for a few hours. Meanwhile, I
am bored with my same So I decided to change my attitude - I'm trying to imitate my dog. I'm trying to find wonder in the routine everyday. After all, when you think about it, it is pretty remarkable that you open your eyes each morning. And since every few hours you get to quench your hunger, well, that's a thrill, when you consider the alternative. So while I can't match my dog's drool, I am trying to match his zeal. Don't worry. If you come to visit, I will not clamp on your leg and do the Hootchie Coo. On the other hand, that sunny spot on the floor looks pretty tempting..*
|