Back pain aside, the day was otherwise gorgeous, with the warmer weather a much welcome reprieve for puppies now 5 weeks old and wanting very much to play outdoors. No sooner do I crack open their door to the world, do they bound out, toppling over their feet, my feet and anything in between before stopping one by one, to pee the second their little paws hit terra firma (a pattern I have learned to anticipate, since it'll net you some yelps if not some really nasty shoes if you're not paying attention).
So gorgeous was the day, I decided to do my writing outside, so I gathered my laptop, camera, phone and writing tools and headed out w/blanket to do my work from Mother Nature's office. Great idea, is it not? Can't you just see the picture perfect moment? Well, let me paint you another picture.
Only now the pups are puzzled. "Didn't you just let us out?" "Why isn't Mama coming with us?" "Where's Mama going?" "I'm going with Mama." (Such were the cartoon bubbles sprouting from their little puppy heads.) In a nutshell: "utter fiasco" ... accentuated by a rather large winged bird flying to a new, loftier perch. (Another one of those "Didn't quite think this through" moments of which I'm having lots these days.)
Since Rosey wants only to protect (and not nurse so much now that her babies have teeth) she's planted herself firmly on the outside of their door, meaning they are hovering outside the door with her, falling over each other trying to sneak a drink while sitting on their little puppy haunches as their mama stands over. I encourage her to come, hoping the pied piper of pups will make this task a tad easier, but she's not buying it, after all, there's a hawk out there and it needs to go away, only the puppies want to go wherever she's going, thus defeating the whole game plan. With the magic word ("Cookie?") her ears perk up, as she makes her way through the door, stepping on puppies, padding and all. Eventually I get everyone in, confirm I got 7, and manage to let Rosey back out while doing my best goalie impersonation with a bunch of fluffy white balls bouncing off the goal (aka doorway) from all angles.
For the past two weeks I've been woefully concerned about saying goodbye to these little guys-- poster pups for puppy dog eyes everywhere. But it appears God is two steps ahead of me. There does come a point when you realize you and you alone cannot physically do all this, so assigning the puppies their forever homes now becomes a smidgeon easier --my lesson in detachment, next on the agenda. (I have one full week left. First round of puppy shots happens Thursday and after that, Rosey gets her human all to herself again and I get to clean up my basement.)