Minor anniversaries

… a spunky little dog that loves to know what is going on, who is going to be there, and generally be the center of anything that is going on.

The puppies are a one-month-old delight today. The only regret I have is the limited amount of time in the day there is to spend with them, narrowed as it is two-fold by my working schedule and their sleeping schedule, each of which is extensive. They are making a good fist — or rather, face-full — of solid food and Tom, physically the most precocious, is already cutting teeth.

I have now the task of finding two homes for two out of the three. I am trying to approach this matter with all the systematic organisation of a professional person, but it is trying nonetheless. As the señor puts it, while I may be well-suited intellectually to breeding dogs, emotionally I am not well-made for its important facets, like selling those I’ve bred. The fact of capacity helps; one cannot keep all the world’s puppies in one’s spare room, not least when that space is soon-enough to be commandeered by a different kind of baby.

I take comfort from the fact that everyone I know with Norwich Terriers started as a would-be owner approaching a breeder, and that from such chance meetings wonderful homes are made. I am hopeful that through the various networks of inquiry I am exploring, and with a little help from my friends, the perfect match between pup and owner will be found.

Until that match is made — and I have at least two months to make it — there are plenty of domestic pleasures to enjoy with the little hairy ones. There is, for the pedigree-obsessed breeder, comparisons that go back in time. You can see here, for example, the puppies’ dam Fern at one month old herself, just under three years ago. She is the poppet clutched on the right of the two.

The hard core of the closeness and conflict that has characterised ever since her relationship with Edwin her litter brother is not necessarily on display in those too-innocent faces, even if was already well-demonstrated at the food and water bowl.

And here is the pups’ dam’s elder sister, Evie of identical pedigree to Fern, first pup of my breeding and true companion to this house for more than half of my occupancy here.

As they grow bigger, mobile and bolshie it’s easier to forget the vulnerability of their early days, even as I search these images for the history of their temperament. Today I groomed the adults’ coats porch-side while the puppies slept in their pen. I don’t suppose this was my childhood vision of an exciting life, but in such activities these days I find good, good times.