Blog + Dog, In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Happy National Puppy Day from A Pack Mom

Cuddling with three puppies and their mama. The others are somewhere doing something. I’m very attentive, I know.

Yesterday was National Puppy Day, and I missed it. Well, I watched everyone else post pictures about their puppies. I was lazy and didn’t. 

The thing is, every day is puppy day in my house. Not only do I have four actual puppies, I have two older girls too. It’s a zoo. It’s chaos. It’s a furtacular event always. There is never a moment, big or small, that does not have something to do with the dogs. I can attribute that to their being enormous, multitudinous, and very attached to me. I go nowhere alone ever, and I love it. 

Even as I write this, I have one asleep on each foot, two are upside down tug-o-warring, one is asleep in their box for naughty reasons, and a sixth is standing up on my wingback chair staring out the window in case of God knows what. That means there are five very big dogs in my small office. It’s wonderful. This is not a complaint. This is a brag. My office is better than your office. 

A year ago, I had a home filled with Beau, the original rescue, Tess, the stray mama, and thirteen three week old puppies. I was determined to keep zero of the puppies. Life and a man had a completely opposing world view of what would happen, and I lost. Fast forward through the poop, tears, puppy breath, teething, potty training to today: I am a homeowner with a house full of six much bigger than expected dogs. 

I would love to tell you this life is easy. It is not. 

Having six dogs sounds amazing, and it is. Having six dogs sounds hard, and it is. Having six dogs sounds a little crazy, and it most certainly is. It was a choice and a commitment. It was a commitment to them and a commitment to Dylan, my pawtner in parenting. We made a commitment to each of our dogs to love, respect, raise, and maintain them until their last breaths, no take backsies. We made a commitment to one another that no matter what transpires between us, we will raise them together; we will not separate them; we will not keep them from the one another; we will share expenses; we will carry the burden; we will lean on the other when things are hard; and we will always create rules and boundaries together for them, no take backsies. Adopting one dog four years ago (wow) connected us in a more concrete way, making it more complicated if things went to go awry. Adding five more rescues to that equation… well, much, much, much more of a concrete connection. Worth it, but a challenge. 

There are more than just the challenges of having six dogs. We did it in a COVID world where both our incomes and lives have been impacted very, very much. Tess was incredibly sick and pregnant when I picked her up off the street. Getting her healthy was expensive and heartbreaking. The puppies have some special needs, which makes it expensive and a bit complicated at times. (No complaint. I knew what I was getting into.) The reality is: VETS ARE EXPENSIVE. Their health is non-negotiable. We went without so they could be taken care of. We took on debt to take them to the ER. We buy their dog food first before our groceries. COVID made things much tighter, but it’s worth it. 

On top of it, a rescue already existed in this home. Beau was the first priority. We made a decision to foster Tess and the puppies. We knew we wanted to keep Tess, but if the rescue in Beau couldn’t handle being in a multiple dog household, we would have made the very hard decision to find Tess and all the puppies their furever homes. Turns out Beau LOVED Tess immediately. They were inseparable and best buds from the beginning. They do everything together and literally hug every morning when they wake up. Beau also loves the puppies. It was an adjustment, but they adore her and she loves to play with them. But she still had to figure out how to be top dog, get attention, and cope with the fact she was no longer the sun, moon, and universe in two people’s worlds. She had to learn to share: time, food, love, attention, bed. Just kidding, she never learned how to share bed; she’s the only one that always sleeps in bed. Some of her neurosis were exacerbated at first, but with love, time, and extra attention, she’s back to her normal neurotic self. 

Is it a breeze now? Fuck no. 

It’s still hard. They’re still young. They’re still growing and learning and making mistakes and getting on each others’ nerves. Most days are amazing, but there are some days I cry. Being a dog parent to one is hard. Being a dog parent to six is still hard. Struggle is a part of taking care of and living with another being, human or not. The happiness outweighs all the negatives, but it’s work. 

It. Is. A. Lot. Of. Work. 

It takes a lot of work just to afford to maintain them and keep them healthy. It takes a lot of emotional work to stay calm in the chaos because I’m not going to fuck up my dogs’ emotional wellbeing with an inability to handle the fact they’re just being puppies. I do my best. Sometimes I fail. That’s okay. They love me anyways. They know they’re safe. They’re in the only home they’ve ever known with the only parents they’ve ever known being loved in the only way they’ve ever known: unconditionally, patiently, enthusiastically, and constantly.

My six dogs have been the catalyst for DRASTIC life changes over the last year, and I’m okay with that. Everything is for the better even when it has hurt like hell. They are and will be my number one priority until the day they die. I took on this responsibility, and no matter how hard it was, is, or will be, I chose to make their lives the very best I can. 

If you ever find yourself in my home, know that you are watching six pieces of my heart and the very best of me walk around our home.

In honor of trying to be the very best pawrent I can be. I’m including six inspiration posters I created from things I’ve said to my dogs in my very best high pitched and happy-even-though-my-world-is-chaos-and-stressful dog parent voice:

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna, Beau, Tessa, 
Knight, Duke, Makeda, + Bear

Blog + Dog, In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Happy 2nd Birthday Tess, My Little Liar

Tess was happy I FINALLY stopped teasing her with the cake and even wore a party hat to get a bite of that cake. | Dress | Hair Bow | Earrings | Necklace |

Happy Birthday Tess!

She’s reached the ripe old age of two, as of last Saturday. I’m late posting because I’m the worst mama ever, but she celebrated with cake. 

Alright, if I’m being honest, I have no idea when she turns two. That’s the nature of rescues. We just have no idea. The vet can give us an estimate of how old they think she is, but there’s no telling. Last year, when I took her to the vet the day after rescuing her pregnant-ass off the side of the road, the vet said they were doubtful if she was even a year old yet, which made me sad. How hard must her life have been to not only get shot (yes, there’s a bullet in her back), living on the street, and get knocked up all before her first birthday. 

Everyone deserves a birthday, and I decided to make Tess a year old upon her adoption into the Rekemeyer family by giving her the birthday of January 9, 2019. I also really like numbers in patterns, so that looks like 1.9.19 (Beau’s is 5.15.15). 

It’s not a birthday without a personalized, dog-friendly cake from Three Dog Bakery. Tess devoured her part, and no she did not eat the whole thing by herself. She definitely got the biggest slice, but everyone else got a slice too. Beau took her slice and ran so she could enjoy it in solitude. Knight carried his around the house with a prideful prance. Duke laid on the ground and ate it upside down with confused enthusiasm. Bear was terrified of the thing in his bowl and ran away howling. Makeda enjoyed her piece and Bear’s with optimistic bewilderment. The puppies don’t get people food or anything other than dog treats and their special food, so it’s always funny on the rare instance they get something out of their norm. 

Tess has been full of surprises from the moment I brought her home. Carrying a host of problems and a shockingly large litter, she has been the sweetest problem raiser I’ve ever encountered. Luckily, the problems and surprises have not been behavior or attitude things, they’ve all been her tiny body doing funky things or due to her previously homeless predicament. 

Tess eyeing her cake from Three Dog Bakery. | Hair Bow | Dress | Earrings

Of course, we couldn’t enjoy her birthday without a memorable hiccup. Due to health reasons and concerns from our various veterinary health professionals and specialists, the 2020 dog additions have not been fixed yet. 

Tess went into heat a month and a half ago. Every precaution was taken to prevent another unwanted pregnancy—not that I don’t love every single one of her puppies. No more babies! When I say, every precaution, I mean, everything physically possible was done to ensure there would be no incestual babies in my house. That being said, I rounded the corner one day to find Bear—the youngest, biggest, and most sexually aggressive puppy—attempting intimate relations with his mom through the bars of her kennel…. I guess where there’s a will, there’s an awkward attempt. If it weren’t so completely distressing, the effort would have been very comical to watch play out. I did not, however, watch it play out. Being a cock block has always been one of my many talents, and this mama stepped in right away. 

The likelihood Tess wound up with children once again through the kennel was highly unlikely, and I talked my anxiety demon down for a good month and a half. Then a week ago, I was laying in bed with Tess on my face (because where else, in a king sized bed, would she possibly want to settle?) and noticed her nipples and boobies were starting to engorge. Fuck… I took her to the vet for a pregnancy test as soon as they could get me in, which was an incredibly stressful  27 hours of researching second trimester dog pregnancy signs, googling Texas’ doggy abortion laws (yes, that’s a real thing), and crying about the fact that I let this poor little thing down. 

After spending $629, I found out Tessa is a big fat liar. 

She’s experiencing a false pregnancy. Thankfully there are no father-brothers or a grandma-mother in my house; yes, that felt as dirty to type as I’m sure it did to read. Suffice to say the vet and all the staff had a good laugh at the thought of Bear trying to canoodle through the bars of a kennel.

No babies. Tess is completely fine and a very happy two year old. She’s just hormonal and continues to surprise me in expensive, inventive, and stressful ways. Once she’s heartworm negative (we find out in April), we’re yanking that overachieving uterus.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna + Tessa

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Christmas Tree Hunting in 2020; A Family Tradition

I love Christmas tree hunting even more beause of Beau. | Sweater | Jeans | Flannel | Boots | Beret

Christmas tree hunting has been a tradition my entire life.

What is the definition of Christmas tree hunting? For me, it means, first, locating a Christmas tree farm: one that grows Christmas trees. [My personal favorite in the Houston area is High Star Christmas Tree Farm. It’s north of Houston. They have amazing prices and friendly staff.] Once at the farm, the hunt is on. Grab a saw and a measuring stick. Find the plumpest, tallest, most symmetrical tree that your space allows. Lay down on the ground, saw that tree down. Shake it, bundle it, pay for it, put it in the truck, head home to set it up and decorate!

Every single year, minus 1999, 2014, and 2015, I have gone to a tree farm, hunted the perfect tree, and cut it down. By I cut it down, I mean, my father, my boyfriend, my friend, my boyfriend, anyone that wasn’t me cut it down. We’ll get to that in a moment. The reason for no tree hunting in 1999 was: My family and I weren’t home for Christmas. We were celebrating in California with family, so we decorated a Christmas cactus. 2014 and 2015 did not have a tree hunt because I was living with my best friend’s family, and they have a fake tree. 

Beau loves the big dogs that moo so much!!!

Out of my thirty Christmases, I have had a real live tree personally cut down (by a someone close to me but not me) for twenty-seven of those Christmases. 

The most fun part about Christmas trees… I’M ALLERGIC!!! Our love is greater than my inability to touch them. I have a commitment to real trees because I love them, I love their smell, I love having a real tree that I picked out of the ground. Luckily, I have people who love me enough to struggle cutting down a tree, setting it up, and decorating it. I, graciously, take on the role of manager, pastry chef, and barista. Everyone gets what they want, but mostly I do.

Loving on the best girl in the whole world.

Once Beau entered the family, she started coming on the hunt for the perfect Christmas tree. This is her fourth year. This year, we have five extra dogs in the house. We decided to save our sanity, and only brought Beau with us to hunt. She loves it. She loved looking at the big dogs that go moo and rubbing up against the pine needles. She did her very best to try and greet every human and pupper she met. And per usual, she did not want to cooperate for family pictures, but I managed to get one nonetheless. 

This is also the first Christmas in my own house. A house with a very high ceiling, a very large living room, and fireplace warranting a large ass tree. I managed to find the chonkiest twelve foot tree I could find. It is a giant of a tree. I love it so much. The amount of joy it brings me is too great for words. Pictures will be coming soon. Bringing it in, setting it up, and decorating it was a several day process because it’s very large and very beautiful. I am in love with my Christmas tree. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna + Beau

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Pupdate! Duke Is Having Surgery and I Am So Happy

Duke loves to look out the windows and watch the world go by.
My sweet boy always makes me laugh.
Three month old Duke smiling for the camera.

Had you told me a year ago, I was going to own a house and fill it with six dogs, I would have been surprised but not shocked. I was happily living in an apartment with one dog and pushing against the constant “Can we get a second dog?” My answer was always “No.” I wanted to keep my life as simple as possible. One dog is not simple, but it is simpler than two dogs. Why would I not have been shocked? Buying a house was an ongoing conversation. I have a heart for animals, so there was probably a good reason I would have six dogs. 

In February, I brought home a stray dog, Tessa. We had already started the home buying process. Tess had thirteen puppies five days later. I kept saying we weren’t going to keep any except the mama. Dylan said, “We’ll keep one. We have to keep one.” I said, “Fine.” Then it turned into keeping two dogs. One for him, one for me. That turned into three dogs because the runtiest had made an extra special place for himself in our hearts after working our butts off to keep him alive and he had some health issues we wanted to make sure were properly seen to his whole life long.  

Keeping four puppies was an accident. Everyone had been claimed by the beginning of June, except Duke. He was the second runt and sweet as pie. Every prospective family fell through. The wife wanted him, but the husband said no. It wasn’t the right time. They didn’t pass my tests. 

He loves sitting with his face propped up on something.

It ended up being such a blessing Duke stayed in the family. 

I can’t imagine our family without Duke. He brings me so much joy. He’s the only one who likes to fall asleep in Mommy’s arms, and, dammit, I want a cuddler! If I didn’t, I’d have cats. Duke listens and learns better than the other dogs. He’s gentle and sweet and keeps Knight company. He loves playing with others but also being alone. He loves hanging around outside after everyone has gone in to soak up some sun. The addition to the family isn’t just because of his amazing personality, it is because he has some serious health problems. 

Duke’s top jaw is much longer than his bottom jaw. His lower canines are boring holes into his top palette. If the problem is not taken care of it will eventually lead to open sores, abscesses, infection, and a host of other serious problems. That’s just what we could see. His overbite started becoming noticeable around eight weeks old, but it wasn’t extravagant. By the time he was four months, it started being incredibly noticeable. And we started worrying. 

You can kind of see his funny overbite.

We took Duke to the vet regularly so they could check up on him. The beginning of September, I took him to the vet to have it checked because we were noticing significant effects. We were referred to several dental specialists so we could get him in ASAP. He had grown so quickly in two weeks; extensive damage/trauma happened in a very short period of time. We had several appointments saved with different dental specialists across the state. Finally one of the best dental specialists in the state/country was able to squeeze him a month ahead of everyone else. 

I have had so very many sleepless nights worrying about him and quite frankly how we’ll pay for it if the procedures end up being even more extravagant. The puppies have been a series of rare problems, and it has been expensive. LIke, really expensive. I don’t regret it, but we are to the very end of our financial string. We’ll make more money, but Tess and her thirteen puppies have one chance at life and we want to make sure those lives are happy and healthy. 

Up until a few days ago, we weren’t sure if Duke was going to have his toofers removed or need facial reconstructive surgery. His needs and future were up in the air until the specialist could take a look. 

Lounging is his favorite activity. He is such a fancy boy.

Thankfully, Duke’s is the best worst case scenario. All of his teeth have, miraculously, aligned well except his bottom two canines.

We have a surgery date! On November 5, he will go in for tooth reduction and vital pulp therapy—it’s a weird process that you can google if you really want to know what it is. As long as everything goes well, he’ll come home the same night. He’ll have seven days of taking it easy on his little mouth, and six months later, he’ll get to go back for a check in to make sure everything worked wonders. 

Duke gets to keep his teeth and his cute fucked up face forever. We are so, so, so happy and relieved. I have been an absolute mess worrying about him for the last three months wondering if this will be problematic and affect his quality of life forever, which has been my biggest fear for him. It won’t! He gets to be a happy, healthy member of the pack for years to come.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna + Duke

He just wants to cuddle and look up at you with his big happy eyes.
Blog + Dog

Heartworm Journey 2.1

Immediately after picking Tess up from the vet after her first heartworm shot last Friday.

Pupdate Time

Tessa came into my life as a sad, heavily pregnant dog I literally picked up off the side of the highway and placed in my car on February 26, 2020. The next morning, I took her to the vet to get her and the puppies checked out. Among other things,we found out she is heartworm positive. 

This isn’t the first time we have been through a heartworm journey. Six months after adopting Beau, we found out she was heartworm positive. Beau has been heartworm free for two and a half years. With Beau, we were able to start the treatment right away because she was [as] healthy [as she could be outside of the heartworms.] In an ideal world, we would have started Tess’ treatment schedule the day we found out, but it isn’t. Tess was pregnant, and treating heartworms is not safe for the pregnancy or the puppies while she nursed. We also needed to build up her strength, weight, and health. Having been a street dog, she was not in any condition to take on or survive the treatment. We started her on Heartgard (heartworm prevention) immediately to keep her from getting reinfected. Our focus was on getting her healthy and having some babies!

With both Tess and Beau, we have chosen to go with the gold standard of heartworm treatment. It’s expensive and takes time, but for us, it’s worth it. Everyone’s heartworm journey and circumstances are different. The path we have taken starts by keeping Tess calm. She’s about a year and a half, loves to play with her rambunctious kiddos, and wants to keep up with Beau more than anything. So calm has been difficult. You want to keep heartworm positive dogs calm because it lowers the risk of the worms spreading throughout the body. Once Tess had weaned the puppies, we started with a month of antibiotics to kill parasites that live symbiotically with the heartworms. After that month, there is a month off of medicine to give her body time to recover and time for those damn parasites to DIE. After the month-long waiting period, there is a shot to start killing heartworms. There’s an x-ray to see how much damage has been done and to make sure the treatment is even worth doing. If the damage is too extensive, it’s better and more humane to give palliative care. Heartworm shots are like chemo. They are very hard on the body and some dogs don’t make it through the treatment. We almost lost Beau after the first shot. Once the x-ray has been done and the all clear has been given, puppy gets shot one. They spend the day at the vet for observation to make sure there are no adverse reactions. The first shot is the hardest because it does the majority of heartworm killing. There is a month of severe activity restriction, steroids, and in many cases sedatives. The second and third shots come a month later and are given 24 hours apart. Puppy will go in one morning and get the second shot, stay the night for observation, have the third shot the next morning, and go home that evening. Another month of restricted activity, steroids, and sedatives. Physical activity can slowly be worked into the routine a month after the third shot. Six months after the third shot, another heartworm test is done to make sure the treatment was successful.

Tess is starting to feel better. The head cock is back.

Last Friday, Tess had the first shot. We started her on the antibiotics on June 1. July was her month of rest, and she will go in for her second and third shots the beginning of September. 

Before having the first shot, we had x-rays taken. The news was not as good as we hoped, but it could have been worse. With Beau, we caught it early, and the heartworms stayed in her heart. With Tess, the heartworms traveled into her lungs and set up camp. Her heart is quite enlarged. Neither is good news. Permanent damage has been done. Best case scenario, she will live a long and happy life. But there is a chance her years will be significantly lessened due to the damage. Whatever the outcome, we are doing everything we can to make sure she is happy, healthy, and loved for however long she is with us. 

The first night went pretty well. Tess was happy to be home but extremely exhausted and lethargic. Day two and three were terrible. She was exploding liquid from all her orifices. She was so sick and couldn’t keep anything in her tiny body. She and I sat outside in the grass for three hours in the middle of the night on Saturday as she dry heaved into the grass. It’s so hard to watch, and it’s even harder because I can’t explain what’s happening or why she feels terrible. Her symptoms are normal and expected because the treatment is a lot like chemo: it makes her feel awful in order to feel better. Late Sunday night, she started to feel better, and her smile came back. 

Tess has been a trooper. The pep in her step hasn’t gone away even though she is heavily sedated. Every morning, she wakes up excited to be alive and prancing outside to go potty. Every time she hears the pill bottle open, she comes running because she knows it’s treat time aka meds time. It breaks my heart not being able to play with her the way she wants to play; hopefully the next two months will go by quickly. 

Heartworms sucks. It sucks a little less this time around because the process wasn’t foreign. In some ways, Tess is having an easier time than Beau did. Having the puppies and Beau has kept Tessa’s spirits high. The puppies are completely oblivious to the changes, but Beau is so concerned that her best friend doesn’t feel good. Tess is constantly surrounded by toys because Beau keeps bringing her toys and giving her get well soon kisses.

I’m lucky that we’re able to give Tess and Beau the best treatment available, but it breaks my heart that it’s necessary. As a street dog, Tess didn’t have anyone looking out for her. Beau was in and out of homes, and the shelter didn’t prevent heartworms. 

HEARTWORMS IS COMPLETELY PREVENTABLE. 

In the South, it’s not an if but a when your dog will get heartworms if you do not give them heartworm prevention. It is so very important. The treatment to get rid of heartworms is extremely expensive and painful and not a guaranteed fix. If you have a dog, put them on prevention all year round. It could save their life. There are options. Heartgard is a monthly tablet. ProHeart is a shot you can have administered once a year at their annual check up. Just do it. It’s cheaper than getting rid of them and saves your heart the pain of having to watch your beloved pet go through something this awful. Believe me, I KNOW!!!!

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Blog + Dog

The Struggle

Lately, I’ve been feeling like the struggle bus would drive right by me. 

20200422_171948
The Swarm

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The Swarm begins swarming with anticipation of food.

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The Swarm cannot wait. | Graphic Tee | Jeans | Watch | Earrings | Glasses | Belt | Puppy Food | Trough

I love the puppies more than life itself. They bring so much love and happiness into my life. There is more laughter and cuddles and smiles and playtime and kisses than I’ve had in years. Each and every one of them is unique with their own preciously perfect personality. They are a blessing. I don’t regret for a second the choice to bring Tess home or keep her knowing she was expecting thirteen puppies. They are joy and sunshine incarnate. 

The struggle is real. 

I cried in the rain on Sunday morning. Utterly defeated. I plead with thirteen itty-bitty puppies with tears streaming down my face trying to keep a smile in my voice asking them to be still for just two seconds. Of course, they didn’t listen. I was trying to bring them inside after they ate breakfast, when it started to rain suddenly. They’re so big, I can only carry four in a laundry basket up the stairs at a time without the risk of dropping their wiggly, squirming bodies. I had woken up at 4:45 when Tess nudged me awake to walk down the hall with her to check on her babies. They were content in a clean pen. I was up an hour later to thirteen puppies howling, covered in poop, with their sheets looking like Jackson Pollock showed up with a puppy poop inspiration. It was warm enough outside, I let them out into the backyard as the sun came up with their mama. It took me two hours to clean the sheets, pick up the puppy pads, sanitize, and re-set up. By 8:15 in the morning, I had gotten two and a half hours of sleep (not at once), cleaned, fed, and cried trying to not step on one, keep them out of the rain, and get them back into their upstairs room without waking up Amanda and her husband. 

Sunday was a bad day, but it is also the norm. 

All jokes aside, it really is a good thing they’re cute. If they were ugly demon-spawn, I don’t know if it would be worth it. 

Most nights, I get three hours of sleep, non-consecutive. If they don’t wake me up, Tess does. She may be their mama, but I’m her mama. Less than two months ago, she was living on the streets, pregnant, and alone. She doesn’t want to be alone anymore. She wants company wherever she goes, and she’s tired from nursing and taking care of thirteen puppies. I don’t blame her. She’s young and has had a really tough life; I’m her person now. I am running on empty. I am exhausted. Dylan can’t help because he’s at the apartment with Beau. Amanda and Andrew help, but they’ve already opened up their home to us; it’s not their responsibility. 

I’m at the vet’s office about once a week. I think we’re keeping them in business during COVID-19. Check up, dewclaw removal, puppy strangles, more check ups, and other things have made us regulars. Today, I had to take Tess because she suddenly developed hot spots around her neck under her collar. It was terrifying. I felt horrible. She’s so laid back, she didn’t even let me know she was hurting. Luckily, a week of twice-a-day antibiotics and steroids should clear it up, but we’ll know when we go to the vet [again] for a check up next Wednesday. 

Instead of having weeks to plan for one new dog or even puppies… I had five days. There was no money set aside for this. I’m a planner. I like to have a plan and savings and a contingency and more savings. That was not possible here. Luckily, Dylan and I are in a position to take on this responsibility financially and spatially, but it’s drained those accounts, and we’ve even put some on our credit card, which I hate to do. But it’s what we had to do because I was watching Oryol gasp for air, and a little debt was not going to stop me from saving his, Athena, and Knight’s lives. Tess has a lot of health issues to take care of once the puppies are weaned and she’s recovered. Thirteen puppies is a big litter, which means a bigger price tag. They’ve had health issues, which adds to that even more. Paying for vet bills, tests, x-rays, ultrasounds, emergency ER visits, steroids, antibiotics, vaccinations, etc. Not to mention the 36 puppy pads we go through, the two loads of laundry I do, the half can of puppy formula, the six pounds of dog food EVERY DAY. Plus teething toys, sheets, towels, fences, troughs, and all the miscellaneous items we’ve bought to make their lives easier. Amazon has limited the number of puppy pads we can buy because of coronavirus, so I’ve had to ask friends and family to send some to me because we need them. 

They’re big puppies. Now, they’re big enough to run, jump, and play. It’s so fun to run around with them and watch them hop like awkward deer. It also means a swarm. A swarm under foot and the risk of stepping on one and hurting them, which means I’m always barefoot. I can’t feel what’s under my feet in shoes, so I don’t wear them to know when I can put weight on my foot and when I can’t. A running swarm means they rush to any open door, person, or thing they want. It means I have to create barriers, which they’ll find a way passed. I have to let five puppies in while I get down on my hands and knees to push and hold them back so I can close the door so they don’t get hurt so I can take them upstairs so they can be safe without having the rest of the puppies loose to roam free pooping, peeing, and wreaking havoc on the ground floor. It’s amazing what can happen in a minute and a half. The swarm means getting frustrated to tears because I can’t put their food down without spilling it all over them and myself and wherever we are. The swarm means mountains of poop and pee. The swarm means never being able to keep up and keep track. The swarm means letting go of showering, organization, and folding laundry. The swarm means accepting the new stress wrinkles they’ve gifted me. The swarm means I have gotten very, very good at counting to thirteen (five times) because I’m terrified one will be forgotten. The swarm means when one starts howling, thirteen start howling… day or night. The swarm means I’m one step away from complete anarchy.

My life is so completely filled with love and happiness. That love and happiness comes with a price. I’m not complaining, but thirteen puppies is a lot of physical work and a huge financial responsibility. Instagram and cute pictures do not show the late nights, the tears, the frustrations, the isolation, the debt, or any of the other hard bits. Not to mention, I’m always finding poop on my clothes and skin. When I don’t have poop on me, there’s a phantom poo smell haunting the depths of my nostrils. They are absolutely wonderful, but it’s hard. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I took care of a human baby for a long time. So don’t let Instagram fool you. My quaranteam is not bliss. It’s heaven if heaven were coated in poo, tears, and exhaustion. 

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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