Many things that happen in life are difficult to explain. I would even go so far as to say that some things have no explanation. Maybe that is true, maybe its not. I'm not going to argue about it. However, I do know that we don't get an explanation for everything that happens and I know that we aren't entitled to one.
Why do good people get taken advantage of? Why do children die of cancer? Why do old people die of cancer for that matter? I don't know and I refuse to give some trite, cliche answer or idea as to why they do in fact happen. Sometimes its better to just admit that we don't know everything and trust that there is Someone who does.
We had a recent tragedy in our family. No on the same level as someone discovering cancer in their body or even someone losing their job, but tragic none the less.
Here are the main players and how it all went down:
This is my wifes dog Petie. He is an 80 pound Boxer. We have had Petie for almost 4 years. We call him The Browner, Buster Brown, Buster Browner, Brown Bear, Browner Bear etc.
Believe me, I know we're ridiculous, but he's a cool dog.
This is my dog, Daisy Mae. She is a 50 pound boxer. She is almost 2 years old. We call her the Scamp because that is what she is. A scamp. Webster defines "scamp" as a rogue or rascal. Daisy Mae is both.
Recently, Petie and Daisy decided they wanted to "start a family". So they began "trying". My wife and I "discovered" this one morning when the dogs were in the back yard. Needless to say, we hoped that "once wouldn't be enough".
It was.
Almost 10 weeks later, poor Daisy had gained 15-20 pounds and her due date was quickly approaching. I'll cut out some gross details about taking dog's temperature rectally, chewing umbilical cords, eating birth sacks and placentas (Daisy did those last few things, not me).
Once she started popping those little babies out, she didn't stop. The first pup came out around 3am on Saturday, August 19. The last one was birthed 13 hours later at 4pm. During those 13 hours, Daisy had 13 puppies. That's right. 13. A bakers dozen. All of them were healthy. They were all beautiful. Some were fawn colored, like Daisy. Others were brindle like Petie. We even had two white pups. They were all feeding and moving and squeaking. Daisy was doing great. Licking her precious babies one by one. It was amazing. She knew exactly what to do to take care of them. She didn't even go to birthing classes or breast feeding classes.
This is Daisy with about 8 or 9 of her pups. It's hard to believe that she still had 4-5 pups in her at that time... Neither of the white ones had been born yet.
Here's where the tragedy comes in. After about 24 hours after the last pup was born, they started acting weird. Labored breathing. Seizure like stiffness and then completely limp. One pup died. Then a second. Those were both before we went to bed on Sunday night. We woke up at 4am on Monday morning to see that six more had died during the night. I called the vet as soon as I could and scheduled an appointment for the remaining 5 pups and Daisy. Two more died before the appointment.
At the vet, we learned that Daisy was not producing enough milk to feed her babies. The vet said, "Daisy had the deck stacked against her from the beginning. A normal first liter is 6-7 pups. Daisy had double that. She is a little under weight and she is a little calcium deficient. There was no way she could have fed all of the babies. Daisy should be fine, but I don't have much hope for the pups." I bought Daisy some calcium tablets and the three remaining pups some dog milk. We were to feed the babies through a eye dropper every 2 hours and keep them warm. Within 6 hours, two more pups died.
Now, here we are, back to the present. Dawn and I are doing fine and preparing for a baby of our own. Daisy Mae is doing ok...Actually, she is doing great...Remember, she is a scamp. Scamps tend to bounce back quickly I guess. Petie, as always is awesome but he's not quite sure what he is going to do with all of the cigars he bought...
