I HELPED DELIVER A PUPPY

On January 21, 2007 my family gathered in Lexington to celebrate my parent's wedding anniversary, as we do every year. Their anniversary is on the 24th, but this, I believe, was a Sunday. I, however, was unable to attend because I was in Henderson watching over my little dog, Taffy, who was due to deliver her second litter of puppies. She had previously done a great job with her first litter of two in the preceding year. I, in fact, had even wanted to help her with the delivery, but was met with a frighteningly threatening growl and a sudden snapping of sharp teeth. I figured she knew what she was doing and let her deliver two healthy little male puppies, each about the size of a stick of butter. Before going to bed that night, I reached in to pat her head to tell her what a good mom she was and found myself at the kitchen sink washing the blood from my badly punctured thumb. This was something new with Taffy, that I had not previously experienced, a protective mother. Flashing back to 2007, I was going to keep my distance this time and let her handle this delivery on her own.

Rather than let her have her new litter in a birthing box, I decided she would be more comfortable on the waterbed, so I stayed in the room, yet off the bed, when I realized she was going through labor. I think I was even taking a video as she started pushing the first little puppy out. But, something didn't seem right. She pushed and pushed, and I could tell that she was beginning to tire. After the previous birthing experience, I was not wanting to stick my hand anywhere near this mama bear of a little malti-poo with the oh so sharp teeth. I did however notice a change in her demeanor when I took a step closer to the bed, she mostly relaxed, so I reached in and helped deliver the puppy. He was breach and his entire body was out except for his head. It took a quick effort to reach in and push the little head out. Voila, we had our first boy of the second litter.

Taffy took over from there and I backed away once again as she delivered a girl and another boy. I called my family to share the news of this second litter. Because it was during the NFL playoff games and I had the sports section of the paper strewn about the top of the bed, I began labeling the newborns with their temporary litter names. These are their names up til they get to their new owners and their new names. I gave the first the name of Brady, as we were Patriots fans and their quarterback was Tom Brady. I gave the name Bree to the little girl ala Drew Brees and the last was Bear, for the Chicago Bears.

I've always tried to emulate my Aunt Linda when I have puppies to share. It's always ,"Who needs a puppy?" At that time I was certain of who needed these puppies and gave Cry Baby Bree to my Aunt Carol, who renamed her Sassy. I gave Bear to my dear friend, Jerri, who calls him Baxter and my daughter, Christina, received Brady, who she then named Roy G. Biv. As a family, we weren't crazy about the name Roy, as that's my dad's name, but I knew his name represented the rainbow, so Roy, it was.

Christina was such a good mommy for little Roy, I was so impressed with how responsible my little girl had become. However, when it was time for Taffy's third litter, she thought another puppy was just what she and Roy needed. So, after the third litter arrived, Christina and Roy got Riff. All seemed right with the world.

At the end of 2007, Mark and I were already making our move to Georgetown. I recall Christina bringing Riff and Roy over in their cute little matching blue coats. We actually celebrated our first Christmas here in Georgetown with Christina and Dustin, Riff and Roy, and Taffy and Pepper. It was so good to be back in Central Kentucky. I began babysitting for Riff and Roy when Christina was away at conferences. They loved the freedom of the big yard and being able to play with their mom and dad. It wasn't long until Christina's move from Lexington to Frankfort to an upstairs apartment made my taking Riff and Roy a no brainer.

I have enjoyed my family of dogs, even with the addition of Pudge over a year ago. Roy has always been the most vocal. He is the most talkingest dog I have ever been around. And he has always wanted the most attention. He hardly ever fails to let me know he is right there at my feet wanting to be picked up, but I can never deny him, he's just that cute.

And that's why I'm having a hard time today......Roy is gone. I dropped the ball and didn't get him put away before Mark drove up the driveway yesterday. I believe he was gone before I even got to the place where he was lying by the driveway. He has never been so silent. Thank you, God, for the opportunity to have this crazy little dog in my life and I hope he gets plenty of loving in heaven. luv, Susan