It was early evening. Taking the day shift, off early, I still had plenty of time. It is Thanksgiving eve and plenty to do. Tomorrow the house filled to the brink, thinking around 15 is coming. It is a madhouse here when the whole family gets together.
Standing at the kitchen sink, preparing for the big cook-off, suddenly I feel this massive weight against the back of my legs. I can hear heavy panting and feel its vibration move up my back. It was my son’s dog.
It was early evening. Taking the day shift, off early, I still had plenty of time. It is Thanksgiving eve and plenty to do. Tomorrow the house filled to the brink, thinking around 15 is coming. It is a madhouse here when the whole family gets together.
Standing at the kitchen sink, preparing for the big cook-off, suddenly I feel this massive weight against the back of my legs. I can hear heavy panting and feel its vibration move up my back. It was my son’s dog.
A large dog, half boxer and red-nose pit bull, she is beautiful—solid black with a white butterfly on her chest. Looking down, I knew what was happening. She was in labor. Inside, I had known all along that this would be the scenario. In my experience, I have learned that babies have no comprehension of convenience.
I made coffee. We were in for a long night. We had created an open-faced den in the corner of the living room for her to nest. She took to it well. I pulled up the coffee table so that we could have something to lean against as she gave birth.
Sitting on the floor next to her, we were head to head. For two hours we sat. She would press hard against me during her contractions. Growing stronger, she would nestle her huge head against my neck during their peaks. As I ran my hand down her side, I could feel and see the puppies lining up in formation like Marines in a chow line.
She began to push. In my position, I could not see, but my son was on the other side. Keyed up, he could see the first puppy coming out. It was breach and stuck at the neck. It was up to me to help her out.
As much as I have dealt with her, she is a big dog and totally devoted to my son. Not quite assured of how she would react to my involvement my nerves where strong. So far, she had shown nothing but gratitude as I stayed with her. None of it mattered though. I had to act.
Using my right arm around her neck, stroking her behind the ears, I slid my left arm through her front legs to reach the puppy. I could feel it, warm and wet. Gently I slid two fingers up along each side of its body until I could feel its tiny shoulders. I could feel the grip around its neck. As I started to pull, I whispered, “push.” In a second, the pup was completely out.
In my hand, the pup was warm, but lifeless. Removing the membrane, I held the pup to her face. She began to lick. Please, do not let the first one be stillborn, I thought.
Finally, the first breath and a new life.
As I rubbed, she licked, making the pup move and cry to clear its small lungs. Cream colored, I noticed the white arrow shooting down from the top of his head to his nose. Just like the sire. Genetics is fascinating, passing part of you along to another life.
Six more followed during the night with two being born early Thanksgiving day. All were breach except the smallest born in the middle. Each one I held in my palm as they took their first breath of life.
As the dawn arrived, things quieted down. By then it was just the dog, seven little puppies, and me. One by one, I watched as they got their first taste of mother’s milk. I sat for the longest time just gazing at such a beautiful sight.
Bonded now, we passed beyond the familiar precincts.
Comfortable that all were fine, I stepped out into the backyard. Morning surrounded me in awe. Seeming to know, the sky celebrated life with its hues of purple and red.
From children, to grandchildren to pets, I watched in awe as they drew their first breath. In the fleeting seconds between birth and the very first breath is drawn, is where my deepest emotions lay softly. This part of me waits for the miraculous to show itself. Intense panic, bewilderment then excessive bliss swell, overpowering me. My body and consciousness are not strong enough to contain the downpour. My vocal cords speak a foreign language of coos and gasps that are a language of their own.
Life inhales its first taste of air and steals a breath away from you. Perhaps the taking of a breath is the valued price for see a new life coming into the world. A charge for a precious gift—a breath for a breath.
This is just one of many memories that give Thanksgiving a special place in my heart, and constantly reminds me to wait patiently and watch for those moments.
Happy holidays East County. Make some memories not to forget.
