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:
A family picture of all thirteen babies and their two mamas at three weeks old!
Happy Birthday Siren, Vienna, Knight, Marcus, Duke, Joey, Hera, Lucy, Makeda, Sadie, Teena, Murphy, and Bear! Being your first human mama was the most rewarding challenge I have ever been crazy enough to dive into.
After bringing home a very pregnant, street dog on February 26, 2020, Tessa went into labor five days later on March 2. Which means, a year ago, thirteen puppies were born in an epically long labor that lasted 38.5 hours with seventeen hours and one minute between the first and last born. Every single one of the thirteen is healthy, happy, and living their best life today.
What a year it has been.
I was a bit protective of my babies. I didn’t want them to go to their furever homes ever, but that was not an option—I couldn’t afford fifteen dogs, nor did I have the space. I sent them to their wonderful furever homes at three months old because I was able to ensure they were vaccinated, were well socialized, avoided the critical time when they could develop neurosis and fears, learned ample skills from their mama, and I was able to catch and solve some health issues. Puppies are adorable, and I loved every single second of my time with them, but those first three months was a massive struggle in every way. I look back and wonder how I did it. The answer: love and support from my closest friends and family. Neither I nor the puppies would have made it through without those heroes in our lives. Having thirteen puppies and a brand new mama dog was taxing in more ways than I can even describe, but I won’t even try because this is a birthday celebration.
What was even harder than getting through those three months: Watching them go to their new homes. I felt so empty when they were gone. (Even though I still had four puppies, Tessa, and Beau, pieces of my heart were missing.) Knowing each puppy was in the very best home for them made it much easier to say goodbye. Every single parent sends me updates, so I have gotten to watch them grow, becoming more themselves in the comfort of a loving home. I was the puppy matchmaker; I gave the puppy to the perfect home for them and a puppy suited to the home each family could provide. Some of the puppy parents have become good friends or were already good friends. Several have stayed for a night or a few when their parents go on vacation or work trips. Puppy play dates happen. They may not be my babies anymore, but they are still in my life. I am so blessed to have found so many wonderful homes for my amazing puppies.
From left top clockwise: Knight, Duke, Makeda, and Bear. The four babies who are mine forever.
Every day, all day for three months, I was surrounded by thirteen puppies and Tessa. Three months is a short amount of time, but it is a lifetime when you’re watching beings evolve and grow and become themselves. Each one had a unique personality from the moment they were born. Being around them brought me so much joy and filled my heart with love. I was so completely in love with each one. It was impossible to name a favorite, and to this day, the ones I kept are here because a) I wanted to make sure they received the medical care they needed b) their personalities were best suited to Beau and Tessa. I didn’t keep my favorite puppies because I didn’t have any. They were all perfect and still are.
The fact it has been one year since they were born… Is shocking. Where has the time gone? I have watched my four grow into these amazing dogs with huge, unique personalities and needs. Life has been busy and complicated and stressful at times, but I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for my dogs. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my four puppies and the nine others. My heart is theirs. For now and forever.
A year ago, I was given a beautiful opportunity to give fourteen dogs a chance at life, and they are making the most of those lives every day.
Before they went to their furever homes, I took pictures with each of them. They gave me hope and happiness during an incredibly difficult pandemic. There’s no way I wouldn’t remember each one, but I wanted something beautiful to look at as the years fade the memories. I want to share them with you and a little bit about each one.
Siren, the first born.
Siren was born on March 3, 2020 at 3:45 pm, weighing 8.75 ounces. He was adorable and such a sweetheart. He loved to howl and let out an incredibly high pitched noise anytime he wasn’t playing. Rough housing was his favorite activity but I could always count on big kisses from him. He kept his name Siren and lives in Houston.
(March) Vienna gave the best kisses!
March was born on March 3, 2020 at 4:50 pm, weighing 11.3 ounces. Named for the March sisters in Little Women. She has a goofy dew claw with two nails. She was always up to play but never dove right into the middle of the pack. Cuddling was just as much appreciated as play. Her daddy claimed her right away and named her Vienna—after the sausages because they looked like fuzzy, brown sausages. She lives in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Lucky enough to call Knight mine forever.
Knight was born on March 3, 2020 at 5:35 pm, weighing the least at 7.5 ounces. He gave me so much anxiety from the start because he was so little and refused to gain weight. Sass has never been something he lacks. He still suffers from little man syndrome and hates being pushed around even though he is the second biggest in my house and in the litter. I kept him because we bonded over the ten daily feedings we had, his autoimmune disorder, and his deformed front legs. He still has the name Knight, but I pronounce it phonetically, to his father’s dismay. K-Nig-Hit is cuddly beyond belief.
(Hardy) Marcus has been using his soulful eyes since day one.
Hardy was born on March 3, 2020 at 7:15 pm, weighing 7.62 ounces. Named for one of my favorite authors, Thomas Hardy. I’ve never seen such soulful eyes, and he uses them often on his dad. He was equal parts rowdy and lazy. He was always one of the first to curl up in my lap or behind my back. He always had such long legs; there’s no doubt he could be a supermodel. Instead he’s assumed the name Marcus (as in Aurelius) and lives in the lap of luxury in Houston with his dad. Doggy daycare is his jam.
Derpy Duke was never meant to stay, but stay he did, and I couldn’t be happier.
Duke was born March 3, 2020 at 9:00pm, weighing 9.21 ounces. He was a big derpy goofball from the moment he was born. Chewing has been his favorite thing since they got teething toys at two weeks old. To this day, he has a toy or shoe (yikes) in his mouth. If there is a free lap or hand he will claim it. If there’s no free lap or hand, he will still claim it. At eight months old, he had dental surgery to correct his severe overbite, which gives him the derpiest smile on earth. He’s my forever baby. It was a happy accident.
(Nosky) Joey was an adorably cuddly handful.
Nosky was born on March 3, 2020 at 9:05 pm, weighing 8.57 ounces. He has four white paws, so I named him “socks” in Russian. He had, and still does, a predilection for starting squabbles. He loved to antagonize and then walk away. It was irritating and funny; I’m certain he enjoyed his practical jokes. I was incredibly stressed out at eight weeks because he developed a joint problem, luckily his forever mama is on top of it. He’s living the best life and is incredibly spoiled. He is now named after Joey from friends and lives in Pearland, Texas.
Hera’s looking away from the camera as I get kisses from her forever sister!
Hera was born on March 3, 2020 at 9:55 pm, weighing 10.12 ounces. She was the first to crawl into a lap. She could never get enough of those cuddles, although she was happy to get her play on whenever a tussle started. She was quiet, sweet, and an all around easy puppy. Today, she still goes by Hera and lives in Ames, Iowa with my parents, so she’s got a pretty cushy life with her sister, Teena and brother, Barney.
(Boudica) Lucy has the cutest dots on her nose!
Boudica was born on March 3, 2020 at 11:13 pm, weighing 10.2 ounces. Named for Boudica the 60 ad Iceni queen. From the very start, she didn’t live up to the warrior queen she was named for. She stayed far away from any romp, preferring cuddles to literally anything else. She was skittish and shy, which only made me love her more. With adorable dots on her nose, she is gorgeous, perfect, and ridiculously easy to take a nap with. Her new name is Lucy, and she lives with her feline sister, Juniper, in Lincoln, Nebraska.
(Star) Makeda is still joy incarnate.
Star was born on March 4, 2020 at 12:10 am, weighing 9.63 ounces. She was hoppy, happy, and ready to love on anyone from the moment she was born. It became evident very early on that we would keep her because she had enough energy to keep up with Beau. I started referring to her as “Joy Incarnate” at three weeks old because she always has been. I renamed her because I wanted a more unique name, so she’s gone by Makeda—an Ethiopian warrior queen—since she was three weeks old. She’s shy yet rambunctious, playful yet cuddly, happy yet reserved. She’s a dichotomy, and I fall in love with her more every day.
(Lily-May) Sadie has resting sad face.
Lily-May was born on March 4, 2020 at 1: 20 am, weighing 10.48 ounces. Named for Lily Bart in House of Mirth and May Whelan in The Age of Innocence both by Edith Wharton. Shy yet ridiculously lovable, she was always excited about everything once she felt safe. It was impossible to stay away from her because she followed me everywhere any chance she got. Today, she goes by Sadie and lives in Houston with her rescue dog brother, Cooper.
It’s (Athena) Teena’s turn to look-ish at the camera.
Athena was born on March 4, 2020 at 5:20 am, weighing 10.26 ounces. She was sweet but always a little funny. She wanted to cuddle but not that much. She wanted to play but not too much. She was curious but super cautious. She would frighten incredibly easily. She had such a soft coat, I loved burying my face in her neck and covering her with kisses. My dad has a knack for giving funny nicknames. He started calling her Teena, and it stuck. Today, she lives with my parents in Ames, Iowa with her sister, Hera, and their rescue dog Barney.
I never knew what (Oryol) Murphy’s ears would do from one day to the next.
Oryol was born on March 4, 2020 at 6:08 am, weighing 11.99 ounces. Named after Ivan Turgenev’s hometown in Russia. He was a chonk from the start and all about the cuddles. I was obsessed with his ears; they never knew what they were doing and changed day to day. He was so laid back that he earned the nickname “Stoner Puppy.” He loved playing, cuddles, and diving face first into food: the messier the better. He hated bathtime, though. For such a lazy puppy, he popped right to life the moment I tried to bathe him. I hope for his mama’s sake, he’s gotten better with age on that front. He lives in Houston, Texas with his mom and goes by the name Murphy.
Bear is much, much, much bigger now.
Bear was born on March 4, 2020 at 8:46 am, weighing 12.1 ounces. Last but definitely not least, Bear is unforgettable. He was the last, the largest, and the most headstrong of the bunch. Where there was a will, Bear would find his way. He was a cuddly challenge from day one, but he’s impossible not to love even when he was causing me a great deal of frustration. His dad fell in love with him, and he ended up staying in my personal pack. I wish I could say he’s gotten easier, but all I can say is: he’s gotten bigger! He lived up to the name Bear and weighs about 100 pounds with the biggest head he could muster. Luckily, he’s more lovable than he is frustrating.
Happy Birthday my babies! I can’t believe you’re all a year old. I can’t believe I survived. I really can’t believe I’m the mama to four of you. To my other nine babies: I miss you all every single day, think of you often, scroll through the thousands of pictures I took, and talk about you endlessly. I am beyond lucky to have watched you grow into the puppies you were, and I am even more blessed to be able to watch you all grow into the dogs you are becoming. One year down forever to go!
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna (Your First Human Mama)
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.
Vienna watching the horses in the pasture.Vienna exploring the woods.Being cautiously curious about the really big dogs!
When I brought Tess home, I would have never, in a trillion years, imagined my tiny dog would be filled with thirteen puppies. THIRTEEN! I just about had a heart attack when the vet came in with the news and the x-ray proof. It is still one of the wildest facts I’ve had to digest. I didn’t know what we were going to do with thirteen puppies. That’s thirteen births, thirteen mouths to feed, thirteen vaccinations, thirteen lives to watch over. Thirteen homes to find. I was mostly worried about the thirteen homes.
I am a tiger mama. I would do anything for my babies. I knew I was not going to let the puppies go to just anyone. I vetted everyone who was interested in a puppy. I did home checks, interviewed, and made them sign contracts. I wanted to make sure every single puppy would be in a home that would love them and take care of them forever. I even made my very best friend and my parents sign a contract. There were zero exceptions made. Tiger mama. Even though nine of the puppies are no longer mine, there is nothing I would not do for them and their parents. Need a babysitter? I got you. Have a question at three in the morning? Call away. Want a hand to hold at the vet? Give me ten minutes. We’ve got this!
I found eight homes. Five found homes in Houston: two with my close friends, three with (now) new friends. One went to a wonderful home in Nebraska. Two stayed with my parents. One went to my best friend. Each and every person/family is lovely. They’re crazy dog parents like me. I couldn’t have asked for better families for them. Honestly, I’d let them all adopt me. Everyone has been beyond wonderful and keeps me updated with pictures and videos and anecdotes. It is just the best outcome I could have asked for. I have even gotten to dog sit for a few of them.
Giving them up was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. If I could have kept them all, I would have. But that’s not fair to the puppies. They deserve to have all the attention. In a home full of dogs, I wouldn’t have been able to give them the attention they deserve. I found joy in pairing each puppy with the right family. Active puppies went with active people. Shy puppies went to families with patient hearts. The puppies attached at the hip stayed together. They all ended up exactly where they were meant to. And they are so incredibly happy and loved and safe.
I never pressured anyone into a puppy because it’s a huge decision. A life changing decision. A financially, socially, emotionally, life altering entity coming into a home and peeing on things. A dog will be a part of your life for fifteen years (fingers crossed). They are family. My best friend, Alex, had been talking about adopting a dog someday. As in, not now. He wanted to get settled into his post-military life. I never even mentioned him taking a puppy because he’d been clear about a dog is for future Alex. Two weeks after the puppies were born, he said he wanted one. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. I suggested March for him. She was the right combination of playful, active, funny, cuddly, and smart he needed. Each of the puppies is special, but she was specially suited for Alex. He met her at eight weeks old and fell in love. I delivered her to him on my birthday when she was twelve weeks. It was hard saying goodbye, but I knew I would get to see her again and watch her grow up.
Vienna is an active girly, who loves to run and explore.
Before March was even four weeks old, Alex was sold. We video called often so he could see the puppies and “get to know” March. I told him to start thinking of a name so she could get used to her new name. They were all asleep in their various squishy shades of tan, brown, and black. He said, “They look like sausages; I’m going to name her Sausage.” I responded with, “No puppy for you. You can’t name her Sausage.” In his ever quippy manner, “Fine. I’ll name her Vienna. Vienna Sausage.” I tried to talk him into taking two so he could have a Vienna and a Genoa, but he is the very proud doggy daddy to Vienna.
I was able to visit them in August when I went to Iowa. I was nervous she wouldn’t remember me, but she did. She is growing up into the sweetest and most playful dog. Her personality is really shining through now that she doesn’t have to compete with twelve other puppies for attention.
Raising puppies is hard work. Really hard work. Emotionally and physically exhausting work. Twelve weeks is not a long period of time, but it’s long enough to fall completely in love with thirteen individual puppies. For their personalities to be engraved on my heart. Being with them 24/7 is grueling but amazing. I watched them grow, see their eyes open, teach them how to eat solid food, clean up poop, and more. I got to know their unique personalities. Everyone asked which was the best puppy or who was my favorite. The truth is, I didn’t have a favorite. I couldn’t choose. They’re all perfect and special and wonderful. They’re so different. I love them all.
The puppies have been with their furever families for three and a half months, and it is an absolute joy to watch all the puppies grow into themselves and their families. I know I did the right thing taking Tess in and caring for them until their furever families took over. I knew from the beginning it would break my heart, but it’s the good break. A happy break, knowing they’re in the best place for them. I miss them every day, and sometimes, I look through the thousands of pictures I have. The fact each family takes the time to keep me updated on their growth, development, health, and happiness means more to me than they could ever know.
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.
Getting cuddles in before she goes. | Dress | Shirt
Boudica playing in the backyard before she went to her furever home.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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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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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