Bunny’s pups are blessedly, gloriously vigorous – fat and happy, and already fighting with each other over prime nipple real estate. This is a good thing, because Bunny has decided she would much rather be a pretty pretty princess than a mommy, and is studiously ignoring them, in the hopes this has all been a bad dream. She’s nursing them, or rather she’s allowing me to put them on her to nurse, but other than that she’s not shown one iota of interest in them. Not a lick, not a sniff, nada. This is bad news for me, as it means I’ll be spending the foreseeable future doing the stuff that moms are supposed to do – wiping their bottoms to ensure they’re urinating and defecating, gently wiping down their faces, cleaning poop stains off their bodies, and pushing them back into puppy piles if they stray into the other end of the whelping box. What fun.
More after the break.
There’s a chance that Bunny’s mothering instincts will kick in when her milk ‘drops’ – that’s the hormone induced surge that turns her milk flow from the drips and drops of colustrum to the (hopefully) flowing rivers of milk. I’m told this is often the hormonal kick start it takes to wake up her maternal urges. Let’s hope so..
I’ve always been blessed with cantankerous, independent, “push off and let me handle this myself” bitches. Tara, my foundation bitch, once lunged out of a tub and almost took the leg off of a moving guy stupid enough to wander into the bathroom where I was temporarily housing her with her newborn puppies. Serves him right for ignoring the huge-lettered “DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR – DOG WITH PUPPIES INSIDE!!!!!” sign I’d plastered on it. Anyone with reading comprehension skills that poor deserves a nip on the ankle – a good mother is willing to give one to protect her newborn puppies from strangers. Even Tessa was growly with everyone except for myself for the first 3 days after she’d given birth. All of those girls would have gladly whelped their litters under the barn, if it meant people would leave them in peace to look after their puppies in private. Then people wonder why I’m nostalgic for my cranky uber moms…
If I thought Sailor had enough milk, I’d stick her in with Bun Bun’s pups and let her raise them up, but as it stands I’m crossing my fingers that Bunny develops into an uber mom all on her own. Maybe I should invite someone over, and hope she growls at them if they walk in her room…
A few new photos – sorry for the color, but the only light in the room right now is a heat lamp.
On the subject of photos, the combination of the flash, and the heat lamp, give the impression that the brindle boy is reddish hued, but he’s actually a pale, silvery fawn. In fact, he’s identical in color to Barb’s lovely Roseanne, a Tara daughter and an uber mom in her own right.
Here’s a photo of her in her prime. Roseanne was a silvery brindle, with a clear black mask. The little boy is identical, although with Sailor’s wide white chest and triangular white marking on the back of the neck.
New puppy photos from this morning….