What Rosey Does Best

My daddy used to say “When you get your vices down to one, let ‘er rip!" (He said this in jest, of course, but in defense of his cigar smoking…A vice he finally just gave up trying to give up on, and a vice he held to til the day he died.)

I take that notion one further and say "When you find that thing you love more than anything else in life, Let ‘er rip.”   

For Rosey that would be motherhood...

             Some gals are born mothers. Personally, I missed my window. 

             No regrets. I wouldn’t take anything for my life’s choices. But so far all I’ve birthed are books and broadcasts. My children are working projects. Here of late, I’ve added the twins: gardens and goats, but for Rosey, motherhood is her all time favorite thing.

             For those new to the blog, Rosey first became a mother back in January, smack dab in the middle of our arctic polar blast. Despite my best efforts to have this momentous event happen in the birthing area I had created out of a refrigerator box poised strategically under my dining room table, Rosey opted for the great outdoors, birthing her (11) pups beneath the front porch in a crawl space only  3’ tall. While I had been instructed by Thurman not to touch the puppies, as nature didn’t need my help and dogs have been doing this birth since the dawn of time, I didn’t heed his advice. First pup out wasn’t breathing, and practicing nose to mouth resuscitation is kinda hard without holding things. Furthermore, while temps were hovering around freezing during birthing hours, they were dropping to zero by dark, so once birthing was done, moving puppies one by one while fighting Rosey, hell-bent on keeping them where she’d planted them was a feat worthy of a reality show. (In his defense, Thurman lost an entire litter once when his mama dog, under similar conditions, refused to nurse after her pups had been tainted by the smell of human hands. Moral of the story: every dog is different…You do what you do and trust your gut. If ever there was an exercise in being fully present, being there for the birth of Rosey’s pups was it, but I digress…)

        Fortunately, Rosey took to mother- hood like Picasso to a paint brush  Even in that painful period when her scratched up tender teats were met with needle-sharp puppy paws, Rosey aced her motherly duties with great aplomb.
 Suffice it to say I love puppies as much as Rosey loves mothering, but our deal was one litter and one litter only – a decision made primarily because of farming friends soon to be on the market for new protectorates as their loyal, aging Pyrs were nearing end of life status. Given Rosey’s temperament and the fact that she hails from a long line of goat-herders, I would’ve cloned her if I coulda. Instead, we opted for one litter of pups the old fashioned way. (Note: sadly Pyrs as a breed do not live as long as some dogs owing to their size, the hard work they do, and the elements they weather in doing said work. That Pyr rescue operations are on the rise is not lost on me, furthermore, I am a spay and neuter advocate from the word go. My decision to attempt one litter was not made lightly.)

            The good news is: all of Rosey’s babies found homes; all of Rosey’s babies found work. Some guard goats. Some guard alpacas. Some guard homes and people. One even protects an entire animal sanctuary. Two, (Rosebud and Hiccapup), remained with us and will soon to have a goat herd all their own to protect, alongside the pygmy herd now guarded by Rosey and TJ, her brother.

            And speaking of TJ…

            Not to be outdone by his puppy-lovin’ sister, TJ, was shortly thereafter, called upon for fatherly duties (i.e. stud services), which allowed me to witness the other side of the dog-breeding world…Seemed only fair --if I’m going to experience the maternal grandmother’s role, why not experience paternal grandmother role as well. (As a side note, it took Rosey a week to get the gist of things that took TJ all of an hour, though to be gentlemanly about it, we did invite Lilly to stay the night.)

            Nine weeks later I receive the news-Lilly has given birth! A beautiful litter of 6 pups was photographed and sent my way. In exchange for the services, one pup comes to me (but who can take just one?) Preferring these dogs live in pairs, I, at the pups’ 8 week anniversary, went to select a baby (ok, make that two) that I will, in turn, find a home for (after all, I have 4 and as much as I love puppies, they do grow up and they do eat…A Lot.)

            So I have a lovely weekend to enjoy said pups (pups that shall remain nameless, as that tends to be where I get myself in trouble with animals)…Pups I have already put feelers out for a la farmers, friends and folks at the co-op (after all, TJs lineage is the same as Rosey’s, meaning he, too, comes from a long line of herders. These dogs are good stock, and good at protecting good stock. Like their cousins before them, they too, shall be working dogs if I have my say.)

            So I bring the puppies home…let them loose in the yard. They run straight to the fence to see… “Daddy? Is that you?”  Sadly, TJ could’ve rivaled any guest on Maury Povich’s show, so shocked was he. Matter of fact, I’m not at all convinced he gets the connection even now, and the cousin pups (Hix and Rosebud) …well, they’re not so certain either.

            But who IS certain…if not of her relationship with them, then of her role in life…is Rosey…who never met a pup she didn’t love.

            Not knowing for certain just how she might react (after all, Rosey is a worker, yes, but she’s also my spoiled child –spoiled being a relative term, obviously. What I mean to say is Rosey has a spot on the porch, and from time to time, Rosey gets to come in the house.)

            Once certain she poses no threat to new lifeforms that likewise, get to come indoors, I bring the three of them in to see just how they will do.

            Turns out they do just fine…So fine, mind you, that although weaned now for several weeks (and Rosey’s spigots being out of commission since March), it caught me totally off guard to hear that all too familiar sound …I look up to find Rosey’s nephews attempting to nurse their aunt. (Sorry boys, it’s not gonna work, but I gotta hand it to you for trying!)

            Of greater interest than the failed attempt at nursing a dog they just met, was the expression on Rosey’s face!  (How fast could I get to my camera?) Pure contentment…Even minus the milk, Rosey was back in her element, doing what Rosey loves best, which is to say “Lovin’ on puppies~”

            Ya know, come to think of it, puppy-lovin' is just one more of those things this dog and I have in common...What they heck, Rosey....You've found what you love best in life...I say "Let 'er rip~"