Archive for category: French Bulldog Stuff

It’s a week today since we lost our little boy, and three weeks yesterday since the pups were born. I’ve been rather reluctant to blog about the remaining pup since then, for a few reasons.

I’ve been afraid that bonding too tightly with her, as I did with her brother, would be unhealthy. I was afraid, superstitiously, that loving her too much would somehow put her in danger. So silly, I know. I can justify it by saying that I had a few issues with her putting on weight last week, even as I knew full well that it wasn’t at all the same thing as what happened to her brother.

Sailor had a bit of a bladder infection, and that combined with a solo pup nursing resulted in her having lessened milk production. The little girl stalled in her weight, and I was quite frankly too distracted by her brother to notice right away. By the time I did, she hadn’t gained an ounce in two days, and this in a pup who was regularly putting on a full ounce a day. So, it was once more time to break out the bottle and formula. She’s all caught up again now, weighing 1 lb 14 ounces as of this morning, and back to her ounce a day weight gain. Crisis averted.

It’s all made me realize that she’s been rather the second class citizen in this litter from birth. Her brother has overshadowed her, and I feel rather guilty about that. I also felt she deserved a name, so she’s now officially Delilah – or, rather, unofficially, since Delilah is her call name, and not her registered name. Yesterday, as she was restlessly moving from nipple to nipple on Sailor, and then stop-start-stalling with me on the bottle, I scolded her for being “So stubborn” and “So fussy”. I then realized that what she really is, is “So Rebellious”.

I now introduce you to Delilah – aka Bullmarket Absolut So Rebellious

Photos and more about her after the cut. Read more →

Thank you all for being so kind.

Practicality tells a breeder to never get too attached to a newborn puppy, since there are so many things that can go wrong. Reality is another matter altogether.

Staying up nights and bottle feeding a puppy creates a bond you can’t ignore. The first time he eagerly crawls over and starts sucking on your finger as soon as you touch him is the day you commit to allowing your heart to be broken. The first time you hold his tiny head up, smaller than an egg and just as fragile, so that you can help him try to breath instead of gasping for air, is the day you start to grieve. Starting to realize that things might not turn out alright does nothing, absolutely nothing, to help you prepare for the reality.

I will not go into what it was like to lose him, both because I don’t have the words, or the heart. I will say that he fought, and I fought with him, but we couldn’t win that battle.

In 17 years of French Bulldog breeding, I have lost a few puppies. A few were still born at birth, and I lost one litter to a negligent vet. I have lost one other puppy, before our boy. I remember them both, and I remember every other puppy as well. I miss them all, and mourn that I couldn’t help them.

I know it’s not right to get this attached to a puppy that logic tells you you might lose. My vet said to me that she tells breeders with puppies like this that they should put them down as soon as possible, to spare themselves the grief. I asked her, as a breeder, if that’s what she does. Her reply was “No, I fight to keep them alive, just like you did. I don’t know how to do anything else”.

Our boy is buried beneath our cedar trees, with a cairn of stones over top. I dug the hole, and it wasn’t easy, because we sit on good, solid Grey County bedrock. I dug it in the rain, and I did it because he deserved it. Sean wrapped him in my t-shirt, and put a very small teddy bear under his arm. He said “He’s never been alone since he was born, and I don’t want him to be now”.

He is missed.

“Sorrow makes us all children again – destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Carol