11..., Lifestyle

11… Devastating Things About Raising Puppies

I have loved raising the puppies. From the moment I brought Tess home at the end of February, I knew my heart was going to break. Having had a litter when I was fourteen, I had an understanding of the difficulties lying ahead of me. It’s different because there were “only” ten puppies in that litter. Thirteen… that’s another story entirely. As an adult, though, it’s different; it’s harder. Being financially, physically, and emotionally responsible for the first three months of thirteen little puppy lives has been beyond hard. As much as other people have been around, I have almost completely been the sole caretaker. It’s one of the most taxing experiences of my entire life. It’s different than taking care of babies; in a lot of ways, it’s harder. The difference: it’s only for a few months.   

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Getting cuddles in before she goes. | Dress | Shirt 
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Boudica playing in the backyard before she went to her furever home.
  1. Boudica went to her furever home on Saturday. She’s the first to leave the litter. She needed to go to her family. She is so shy and timid, her brothers and sisters were overwhelming her, and she couldn’t grow into the explorative, happy puppy I know she will be given the space and patience she has found with her family. It is heartbreaking letting her go, but she couldn’t have found a better fit for her sweet soul. She has a huge back yard and will go on so many camping trips. My heart hurts without her, but it’s easier knowing she’s in the best place for her. 
  2. Health problems have been plaguing this journey. Puppy Strangles was one of the most terrifying experiences. Walking in after letting the two-week old puppies have an hour nap to find one struggling to breath through a swollen face and hard neck dropped my stomach. Two more had it within the hour. We didn’t know what it was; luckily, we went to the ER, and they were able to get the help they desperately needed. It was five weeks of antibiotics and steroids to make sure they would be healthy and happy the rest of their lives. They’re perfect, and you’d never know we almost lost Oryol, Athena, and Knight. Noski has a degenerative joint problem; it was so bad, I wasn’t sure he was going to make it because he couldn’t walk. He absolutely was not himself, and my heart broke watching him struggle to lift his head. Tess had a hotspot, which showed up overnight, leaving her with no hair and huge scabs around her neck. It looked like I had her collar on too tight for ages; I felt horrible. She was on steroids and anti-inflammatory medicine for weeks to get rid of it… The hair hasn’t grown back yet.  
  3. Tess has struggled. She has absolutely persevered and been a rock star mom… But there are THIRTEEN puppies and EIGHT functional nipples. The math does not work out in her favor or mine. They all want to be with her and love on her, and she’s exhausted and fed up with the swarm. It’s hard watching her do her very best by them. She’s torn between wanting to be with them and wanting to be alone. I wish I could do more for her.
  4. It’s hard giving all thirteen puppies the attention and socialization they need and deserve. I only have so many hands. My life is spent almost completely with them. If I’m not changing sheets, doing laundry, feeding them, or trying to get a little work done to pay for the vet bills, I’m with them outside, inside, wherever. I do everything I can to make sure they’re all loved on equally, but it’s hard.  
  5. A few puppies needed extra special loving because they were sick, small, or not getting enough food. As newborns, the puppies ate about every two hours on a rotating schedule because: not enough nipples. Tess couldn’t produce enough, and the little ones weren’t able to fight their way in. I had to supplement several puppies by pulling them out and letting them nurse without the competition. But that wasn’t enough, so I ended up bottle feeding them every two hours for four and a half weeks. It’s not conducive to sleep, but I’ll get to that. 
  6. My sleep cycle has been devastated. It wasn’t normal to begin with, but it was regular and perfect for me. I usually went to bed around 4:00 am… Now, I get up at 5:00 am. NOW, before I was getting maybe three hours of non-consecutive sleep a night. It was horrible. I’m getting around four and a half hours of sleep at once. It’s hard. I’ve always functioned tired because I’ve had to. I’m used to the feeling of complete exhaustion. The kind where there is a pit in your stomach that feels like hunger, but it’s literally my body hungering for sleep. I’ll get it in a few more weeks. 
  7. All this work, lack of sleep, and poor hydration is taking quite the toll on my skin. I’m looking a bit haggard. I’m a bit vain. I’m actively trying to prevent wrinkles and signs of aging because I’m a woman and society dictates it so because my worth becomes non-existent the moment I look three minutes older than 25… Kidding, kind of, probably not really. Anyways, I’m doing my best to treat my skin well, but all this not fabulous schedule and difficultness is really starting to show on my face. I HAVE FINE LINES. I need a facial. Stat!
  8. Having to choose sucks. I mean, it is horrible. Talk about a Sophie’s Choice – this is complete hyperbole; they are all going to absolutely the very best homes I could find. It was hard. We knew we wanted to keep three puppies. Actually, we weren’t going to keep any. Then it was one puppy. Then it was two puppies; Dylan’s pick and my pick. But Knight was really sick and small and deformed, and I put a LOT of time and money and energy into just keeping him alive, and no one deserves his goodness but me! So we decided to keep three puppies. Dylan pretty much immediately bonded with Bear, so that was his pick. I have spent just about every waking moment with them for the last ten weeks. I love each and every one of them with all my heart. I know them better than anyone else. I want to keep them all forever. How could I possibly choose? I couldn’t. I did, but I chose based on what the best fit for our family was. Bear is a scrappy cuddler; Tess is laid back; Knight wants nothing more than to cuddle. Beau needed someone who could run, run, run with her. I chose Makeda because they can run around for hours together. There were others who would’ve been better fits for me, but I wanted to make Beau happy. 
  9. The stress of everything has been tough. I can handle stress, but this is a lot. There have been things outside of the puppies causing stress like COVID and everything else life throws at us. The puppies are stressful, though. Trying to make sure they’re healthy, happy, socialized, and everything else is stressful. I have been on the verge of tears pretty much constantly for eight weeks. My teeth are loosening up a bit because of all the stress. I don’t remember the last time I showered because my brain has shut off. Speaking of my brain not working, words are hard. My speech has definitely struggled. 
  10. I’m not a particularly in shape or fit person. I do my best to avoid working out every way I can. That being said, I’m not that out of shape. Puppies grow quickly. At birth, they all easily fit in a cat bed. Now, one fits in that cat bed. All thirteen fit in a single laundry basket for their two week check up. At six weeks, only four fit in a laundry basket at a time. I used to be able to carry four in my arms. Now, I can manage two – as long as it’s not Bear. Carrying them all up and down the stairs, wrangling them, feeding them, trying not to step on them, and more has had quite the toll on my body. My back aches. My neck aches. My leg muscles are so tight. I’ve gained weight… Damnit stress. My arms and legs are covered in scratches and bruises; it looks like I didn’t survive the razor blade windmill in a horror movie. I have a hard time wearing shoes because the tops of my feet are so scratched. My fingers are covered in band-aids. I have to wear wrist support because they have reached their max. I hurt. I need a massage and a vacation. Probably some sleep.
  11. I can bear all of these things. It’s been hard and exhausting and lonely and expensive, and it’s completely worth it. The hardest thing has been knowing from the moment we decided to keep Tess is the knowing I would have to say goodbye to these perfect little beings I raised and loved with my whole heart. I have thoroughly vetted everyone getting a puppy. Furever families must sign contracts to guarantee they will be taken care of. Most are going to friends or family members, which means I’ll get to visit them and watch them grow up. Knowing they are going to wonderful homes that will love them for the rest of their lives makes it easier, but it’s heartbreaking. I’ve said goodbye to one already, but I have eight more goodbyes to come. It’s devastating but the best thing for them. 

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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Blog + Dog

The Struggle

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

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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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