Summer Husbandry

As tweeted, young Fern is in pup, surprising me at yesterday’s scan with four fetal whelps in view, one of whom obliged us with a backflip under the ultrasound. The average-sized Norwich litter is two or three whelps, so this was a surprise. There are around four weeks to go, although the poppet in question is already sporting considerable saddlebags and moving a little more sedately.

The señor, harvestmother and I will do everything we can to keep her comfortable and safe leading up to the labour.  The next step will be a move to larger meals for her, which can only meet with her tacit approval.  Experience in breeding is no assuager of the hopeful anxiety that accompanies labour and whelping and these will be several cautious weeks. Our current nickname for Fern is “Foo” (or perhaps “Fu”), an abbreviation from a previous elaboration. She is a tough and determined customer, Miss Foo, the airway irritants of summer notwithstanding.

The other half of this equation has done his work already; this English dog of considerable handsomeness and splendid type now with the run of the house at the home of Ashburton Jay and the show ring beyond.

I look at that cheerful face and the more pensive visage of my girl and hope for good things. I have a passel of first-rate vets and a weight of superstition. Time to read again The Whelping and Rearing of Puppies and to wait and see.