If you’ve read this entire blog, my neurosis when we have puppies is already well established. I realize life and death is all part of animal husbandry. After one of Uma’s little babies last year died of natural causes in the middle of the night, I have mild PTSD when puppies make the wrong noises at wee hours of the morning.
What are wrong noises? Anything other than smacking and squeaking. It’s hard to explain but there is some familiarity that comes with having puppies over the years. After spending most of my professional day saying, “what?,” “speak up please!,” and “Can you say that again?” I start feeling like my hearing may be going bad. Then there are times, when I can hear a puppy sigh, cough and then softly wimper like the world is coming to an end. It seems like it should be barely audible, but I can hear it like a trumpet in my head.
Thankfully there was nothing seriously wrong with the whimpering little man. He had a bad case of the hiccups and was getting pretty mad about it. Katie and I were sitting in the whelping box at 4 a.m. considering the world might be coming to an end. Everything was fine.
We are ready to expand the whelping box by using an x-pen. This means I will have to move out of the den. It is probably a good thing. I don’t need to be keeping myself 1/2 awake with strange hiccupy puppy dreams.