Saturday, August 24, 2013

One Amazing Puppy

I found Stella online in Brainerd. Her owner only had her for a week and said she did not get along with her husky. We met at a parking lot, and did the "exchange." The owner told me she was 6 months old and she was so cute, happy and eager to come with me. The owner had her cell phone in her bra, so I knew Stella was coming from a class act... I decided she needed rescuing.

Sage, my last dog from the gang of three I had when in Sioux Falls, did not like Stella. Stella was quite submissive in asking for Sage's approval, but Sage was not interested. Stella followed me everywhere. In fact, one sign that something was not right was when she stopped following me everywhere and stayed on the couch.

About two weeks ago, I noticed her nipples were large and her belly was getting bigger. I wondered if she had worms and maybe if some dogs' nipples enlarged when they were going into heat. I was waiting for a heat cycle to spay her because it is better for their bladders to wait until after the first heat cycle. As I started watching her belly, I noticed movement. I thought I was seeing things until the night before last when I was positive that I saw large movement. I tried to wash an old bed of Princess' but the washer had an error code. I waited until the next morning to look up the error code. Unfortunately, when Stella pooped 3 times - instead of her usual 1 - and kept trying to pee, I knew she was in labor and washing the bed would have to wait.

I thought I would try to take a shower as she slept, so laid out some towels and sheets just in case. Then I sat beside her and reassured her that I would be right back. She laid her head on my leg and I could tell she was in pain. Her mouth opened and her body strained and she was shaking. I held her head as her back end reared up and she had about three tail-raising contractions that gave birth to the first puppy - white with black spots.

She looked at it in shock and attended to her rear, that was obviously in pain. She really did not attend to the puppy until I tore the amniotic sac with my fingernails. She lay down next to it and started cleaning it. When I went out to have a smoke, she got off the couch and followed me. The first one nearly crawled off the couch. I put the first one in her crate, and it got its head caught between the little bars. It was a comedy of errors...

After quite awhile, the second came - white with brown spots - after the first was clean and we had a break for a bit. Then with much more pain came the third and largest of them all. It is tan with brown mask and a diamond on its head. She was just beginning cleaning of that one, when the last was born. Black with white feet, tail tip, and collar. She appeared to be out of energy and did not notice the black one under her tail with the rest of them nursing and whimpering. I had to bring it to her attention after I checked to see if it was breathing.

It was quite an experience. She is a very good mother and now is growling at Sage, instead of vice versa. She runs to the door when I leave, seemingly in a panic, afraid I am leaving her. I tried to work in my office today, but she kept coming to get me - and then back to her litter, so I had to bring my computer in the living room by the box of puppies. She is content when I am near her and will sleep then. She is really too young to be a mother. I am here to support her and help where I can. She surprised me! Quite the 5-for-1 discount!

Today Stella came and got me. I thought she had to go outside, instead she led me through the kitchen to the doormat in front of the door to the garage. There I found a poop. She was showing me she could not wait while I was sleeping and had to go. This I find amazing. Every time I let her out to do her thing, she races back inside to be with her babies. Sage gets nipped or at the least severely reprimanded if she is in a 3 foot radius of the puppies.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Afraid to walk out my door...

So, last winter a nice guy helped me dig my car out of the snow in my driveway.  I was hung up on the stuff the city allowed to get packed down before they plowed it into my way.

This year, I found out who the guy was.  He is the neighbor's handyman.  He mows, snow-blows, paints, trims bushes, weeds, etc.  He came into the yard when I was out a few weeks ago, and asked if I would go out for a couple of drinks with him.  He said it has taken him this long to get the gumption to ask.  I agreed to coffee.  We met for coffee at 10:00 am and he was dressed up in his work clothes: old t-shirt, old jeans and ball cap.  Really, he shouldn't have.

Over coffee "we" discussed all the stuff in his garage and basement he needed to get rid of, the stuff he has sold at online garage sales, his stepdaughter from a previous relationship, and he did not ask me anything about me.  Afterwards he gave me his phone number and I did not reciprocate.

He has come knocking on my door, caught me outside and talked my ears off.  I don't want to go out with him.  I am not interested.  He even stated that I have not given him my number, and I agreed and nodded. (Yeah, you're right.  I did not.)  He is attempting to discourage me from leaving Brainerd, asking if I contacted that one lady in private practice.  Telling me I should so I don't have to leave here.

He mowed my side of the yard next to my neighbors' yard, went through my cardboard I have out for pickup, thinking I wouldn't mind and has monopolized my time.  I am chalking up the hours of my life I will never get back.  I am irritated beyond belief.  Monday, he came over when the contractor was here to put my door on and started talking to me just to apparently mark his territory.  Yesterday he came over every time I walked outside.  He does not recognize the deep frown on my face or the indifference to his narratives or the fact I don't reciprocate with the conversation.

I hate NOT working, and my time at home is evolving into complete hell with this guy working next door every single day!  I am already motivated to find a job.  He is motivating me to agoraphobia.  Tomorrow there is a workshop at the unemployment office.  I signed up for it just to get away.  Leave me the @#$% alone!

I understand - have been told, anyway - men can't take hints.  I believe it.  The next time he comes over I will make certain he gets the hints - I will tell him to leave me alone.

Apparently teens these days would say in disgust, "Stalker!"  or "Creeper!"

I think when I was miserable being lonely and not having anyone to talk to, this was the universe's answer to my request to end my loneliness.  Ha. Ha.  I am not amused.