Violet: A-Laying of the SIx Geese

So here is the story of Violet and the un-naturally natural birth of her litter this week....  It was: Terrifying!! lol

Violet was nesting late on Monday, but temp dropped at 6am Tuesday, so with no other signs I thought maybe late in the day... for those not in the breeding game, there are a number of signs we look for in our girls to give us an idea that the babies are a-callin'. Temperature usually drops and stays down by a full two degrees about 12-24 hours before labour onset, they nest (or root around to dig out a comfy spot), they will stop eating, and they start to get a bit of an ansy look to them and then signs of labour begin: panting, looking at their hind end.... you get the idea. Well Violet was eating nicely, and that in and of itself usually means 'not today' - I figured the game would be afoot late in the afternoon at the earliest. So, called the vet as a heads up and had her with me while I worked on the nursery.

and then I heard an "urp!"

like a burp, I mean - well, frenchie owners know this sound - kind of half vomit half burp.

and so I thought oh - that might be a contraction - best to get moving.... and I looked down ....and there was .....a thing that can strike fear into the bravest bulldog breeder's heart when monitoring expected labour....... a puppy!!!!!!

A PUPPY!!!!

just like that!!!!!

I nearly swallowed my tongue!

I do, however remember saying to Violet: 'Hey! You're not supposed to be able to do that!!"

...I grabbed a towel, and a puppy, and called Amy (the vet tech I have on staff) as I frantically grabbed keys, a stack of blankets, and my pup carrier - oh, and Violet, of course.

So, here I am driving to the Vet's office and speaker dialing to let them know I'm on my way:

"Oh, hi, Sheila! Do we have signs of labour?"

"Actually, no.....but I have a puppy!!!"

The second little shocker 'urped' out on the way to the vets!!; Now, again for those of you unfamiliar with the saga that is the breeding of bulldogs: we always do c-sections. In fact, it's standard procedure in my world for everyone to be on high alert around projected due date, but on signs of first stage labour we get in and do surgery. We are still looking at around 85% of the attempted natural births for frenchies turning into emergency c-sections, where chances are much higher that puppies and/ or mom can be lost in the process. I don't gamble, personally, and I certainly don't do it with my girls. SO, nonetheless - natural childbirth is not in the same repertoire of the bulldog breeder. Point in fact: I can watch a c-section, where all of the insides of my girl are taken outside, emptied, and then replaced back insdie again - without batting an eye. Old hat for me. But NATURAL births?? Not in frenchies. Nope. I've had one other female that birthed two naturally before the other 6 (yes oh my goodness I did say six more!!) were taken via c-section and my reaction was the same: EEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW!!!!

How's that for being seasoned? Yep, Natural birth grosses me out. Ironic....no?

So here I am pulled over in an ESSO parking lot toweling off puppy number two, whilst trying to retrieve the very active puppy number one from creeping down the sleeve of my (oh my goodness SO toasty puffer jacket). I opted to place both in the puppy carrier while alternating blankets warmed for them on the heat pouring out from my dash; eat your heart out MacGyver!

I arrived at my vets about half an hour later, looking very much (I would think) like a dishevelled backpacker lost in the Himilayas with my puppy carrier backpack draped in a blanket, covered in...well...not nice things, not a shred of makeup, oh, and a huge mama of a frenchie in my arms.... Apparently leash and collar were not on my short list of 'must haves' running out the door.

The office was seemingly calm an collected, but immediately (after a hurried 'man she's heavy! from me) I was rushed to the prepped room and the familiar orderly chaos of my vets office on b-day insued.

I popped open my laptop - Carol (Violet's mom) had the specialists that had monitored Violet's southern portion of her pregnancy put her medical info and xrays on disk for me - and Two vets and I perused the xray together whilst two vet techs took blood and assessed our momma and babies.  

Now let me be clear on this point: everyone upon everyone saw 3 pups in this belly from those xrays. The specialists in the States, and mine now viewing....everyone except me. I swore I saw four. My agruement was easily challenged, however, as I am reknown for seeing one extra puppy in almost every xray. Nonetheless, the vets that were now taking my advice to 'tilt the screen waaaay back and view it in negative' were a tad suspicious about the mysterious 4th puppy that neither of them saw. SO here we are debating my need for wearing my glasses and we all stop short as we hear: "urp" from Violet.

Everyone froze.

Seriously. The whole room. It was shortly after this that I realized that it's not just me that is surprised by Violet's dumbfounding ability to pass puppies without even standing up let alone actually PUSHING!! I was, though, ahead of the game (having seen it twice already), and therefore managed to break out of the shock shortly before anyone else. I frantically looked back and forth from my hands to around the room, and one of the techs, realizing that someone was in action - albeit not really firm action - asked me regarding the gloves I was looking for, gave them to me, and then all watched as I picked up this perfect little puppy that just magically urped it's way onto the blankets.

So now we ARE at a strange spot indeed, as we now have the three puppies everyone has seen (but me) and we have to actually determine whether our dear Vilolet is done for her day. Bloodwork in process, an xray was prepped - so we could make certain all were out as well as placenta etc. I figured now was the time to update my hubby, as he'd been texting for updates but lets face it, hands were full. Now that our 3 lovely babies were here and nested in with mom I took the minute. And that's all I got, really, as just as I was explaining that there were only 3, but no c-section, thankfully ( as a litter of 3 or less spell L-O-S-S in our world with c-section costs included) out 'urped' wee tiny number four. Where most puppies are around 8 or 9 oz at birth, this little girl was only 5.4oz. "Now there!", I thought to myself as I hung up on poor hubby to grab the new baby and help out, 'That's why no one saw her: she's so little!!'.

... Momma went a few minutes afterward to do the xray to confirm placenta's were passed, and everyone was happy and learning to eat with mom, who was all settled and realxed now that her toughest work was done.

And then the tech cams back from the xray results....."how many more would you like??" "Ummm......Sorry??"

"we still have two more to go!"

I'm pretty sure that's when Violet called the game for rain. Because number 5 was NOT coming out without pushing, and our dear Diva Violet was more than a little sure that pushing is not a part of the birthing process! - I mean lets face it - only number 4 had any push needed and that scared Violet so badly that she yelled out in an almost human voice. Truly! I had two people look in thinking it was me that had yelled!!

So oxytocin was on the menu and eventually Violet begrudgingly pushed out number 5. And then promptly went on strike. So much so that we started prepping the operating room because an hour went by since number 5 and we started to see meconium after the water broke. Meconium is a greeny colour that is basically a babies first bowel movement... but it's usually only seen in fetus distress. But Violet was certain she was done. No more pushing, thank you very much!

At this point we started to use more urgent techniques: mama would push when being examined, so she was examined ALOT. The baby did have some slight movement, just not mearly fast enough. So hear I am, mother of two children (both also, incidentally born via c-section) trying to act all slick and ...well....not shell shocked over my having witnessed gruesome natural birth, and *yack* mom's eating of *ick* placenta *ugh*. I figure what all silly inexperienced people do: regurgitate some barely applicatble tidbit mentioned to you by someone in passing years ago that you're pretty sure was backed up in an article somewhere we once read, I think....and give it to the people who do it every day. Yep: brilliantly I share, "when I was in labour (eight years ago ;/), they told me to go and walk around to speed things up! We should walk her around...?" About 30 seconds later one of the vets enters the room and suggests taking Violet for a walk to get things moving....hey! wasn't that MY idea?? You mean I'm NOT brilliant? Well there's a surprise...not.

So walk we did. An Violet just heeled besdie me and my Vet Tech backup like 'oh, walk time...cool, now that I'm done I wouldn't mind smelling every blade of grass I can find through the snow.' Yeh: no success there.

I was also told that maybe a car ride might get things back in gear (ok, I know: punny - but I haven't slept since Tuesday and it's Sunday so bear with me). The car ride, I thought, was a brilliant idea as there is a coffee shop 500meters from my vets office and at 3pm I hadn't eaten or had coffee yet. And for those who know me you know coffee is one of my food groups!! So there I am in the drive through contentedly ordering my coffee as Violet started nesting again as soon as we got in the car: great news!!! Nesting should mean no c-section after all in order to get that last baby out! And then I hear it "I'll have a medium black coffee with a" "URP!" "Holy Mackeral!!

"I'm sorry??" said the speaker box in response.... Yup - you got it: "Tim Horton" was born then and there: number six.

And that is the end of the story.

Nope.  

Add to that my cell phone dying and having to stop at a corner store to call my husband to find someone to meet the kids at the bus because number 6 was waiting on coffee.  

There. Now that is the BEGINNING of the story....

Love's Labour Lost - The End of a Saga

Ok, so it has been eerily quiet here on the blog, I know. It's not from lack of interest or falling behind - as it would normally be in my case (just kidding) - but for the need to type out bad news. No one likes bad news, especially the bringer of it, but nonetheless it needs to be done all the same.

My lovely Islay was admitted a week ago friday to the reproduction specialist with an open pyometria. Now if you are a breeder you just gasped. If you're not you're wondering what all the gasping is about. Pyometria is an infection of the uterus, a very serious and often life threatening condition which not only results in the loss of any pups concieved but the most often recommended treatment is to spay. - Now the rest of you can gasp along with us.

Luckily, if you can use that term in the case of pyometria, Islay's was open (meaning that the cervix was open allowing the infectious material to leave the body). Thankfully it was wide open; it allowed a great flow of infectious material and let us have a hope for treating her condition medically. We also caught it very early onset, which makes a massive difference in terms of survival - which thank God she did - and recovery of the uterus to go on to carry healthy pregnancies in the future.

Islay had been off her food for a week or so and, though unusual for her, I assumed it was morning sickness. All other signs of pregnancy were in place (enlarged nipples, tiredness, being extra cuddley, and a swelling belly) so the assumption seemed sound. It also seemed pretty normal as I was trying to switch her off of her beloved raw to a top of the line kibble as I lost a pup in my last litter to raw and vowed it would not ever happen again. Islay was not 100% on board with the idea as she had been on raw since about 5 months old when she came to us and LOVES it. Not to go off on a huge tangent here, but let it be said that if a love affair can happen with food - and if you have ever met chocolate, sour cream or potato chips in your life... or sirloin *drool* I think you know the validity of a food love affair - Islay had run off with raw in a mad passion and was not happy with mom's plan to settle her down with her realistic kibble suburban life. SO, all things considered I assumed upset tummy and mad at mom for yuck food covered the bases for me having to hand feed and finally break down and buy her off with one beautiful raw sirlion (hubby has still not forgiven me for that).

And so had she not been bred this heat I feel I would have caught it even earlier and feel like the better part of 'ass' of 'u' and'me' for assuming all was normal. If anyone on the planet should be suspect of things going 'normally' it should be the french bulldog breeder. Nothing is ever normal for these guys and when it is you really should stop and think through what is really going on!

So Friday last Islay woke up - with some prodding (also normal) as Bean needed to pee ("Uh oh, mum! PEE MUM! OUTSIDE MUM!!") first thing as all good 4 month pups do and I was determined to make Islay (aka just 5 more minutes of sleep, mum) join in the event. I noticed the discharge right away when I went into my daughter's room. The bed was wet and her back end was soaked in a slightly cloudy bright red liquid. Not good for a pregnant girl no matter the species. I took her out for her pee (and Bean's peeeeeeeeeeee) and then brought Islay inside for a bath and an exam.

Can I just interupt here to say that it is very frustrating to be and hour and a half before the vet's office opens (yes it's 24 hours but the answering service for the same time arrival is doubly frustrating) and have your eyes on google. I mean God bless google (or whatever search engine you use, of course) for .... well everything. Years ago when I worked in an office they dubbed me 'Google Eyes' as I cannot resist looking up the answer to something I do not know. I adore the internet and it's information. But man alive, when you have an hour on your hands (and an iphone) you can drive yourself bananas searching in a panic!!

Thankfully, there are other options as well, like the online forums for canine fertility. I knew that what was happening wasn't good, but there was no obvious sign of infection and no smell to the discharge (HUGE apologies to the non-breeders for mentioning that - *ICK*). I was given great advice on "how much should I be panicking?" and called my Repro Vet the minute they opened to let them know I was already on my way. Good Repro Vets can be worth their weight in gold, and though they are farther away even in emergencies - check that - ESPECIALLY in emergencies with my girls I would never do differently.

This trip definitely paid off (well the bill was pretty high, too, but don't get me started on 'why are french bulldog puppies SO expensve??!!??' we'll be here listening to me rant about my whopping '23 cents an hour' as my one friend puts it). I was given the option to try to treat my puppy loving, prize breeding bitch via spay or medical treatment and after realizing her chances were very good with medical (meaning we would know well in advance if the treatment was not working and could still opt to spay at that point without adding any danger to her life) I opted to treat medically.

Islay spent the next six days winning over the entire veterinary staff and twisting them around her little paw. When she came home the following Wednesday I was delayed at the office for an additional ten minutes while each staff member came out to give her a hug, wish her all the best, and comment on what a wonderful disposition she has.

I have to interject a little story from her stay: One of my update calls from the attending vet over the weekend included a comment that she was 'quite a little character'. Of course I knew that already, but like anyone I was curious as to what she'd done that was especially endearing. When asked the vet responded 'well, we have her out with us when she's not on her I.V. because she's so good, and she follows me everywhere I go!!! I move 2 feet and she moves two feet. She just seems to think that it's her job!'. I giggled and left a little pause before saying, 'Oh! That's it?? That's not Islay that's just a frenchie!!'. It's so funny when people have their first experience with our little guys. They truly are a wonderful breed!!

And so my great Islay is home, resting up and on her antibiotics for 6-8 weeks. AND eating her kibble..... with much regret on her part. The cause of the pyometria? Hard to say exactly, of course, but a pyometria is an invasion of bacteria introduced the uterus via the vaginal opening and my raw food loving dog is the only one of my troop that reaches all the way around to clean herself (yes, another wonderful trait of the frenchie is that not only can they not usually reach to clean themselves, they feel that as one of the human children they deserve to be clean like the others!). Let it just be said that a RAW food diet is not on my happy list this spring!

Islay will be bred on her next heat and every following until retired as prescribed - to lower her chances of a repeat encounter with pyo and the veterinary team in charge of her case has had a great amount of good results from medical treatment: 50% - 75% have carrying happy healthy pregnancies after recovery. With Islay being the olympian she is we have high hopes.

The moral to the story? 'Don't count your puppies before they hatch'? 'A watched pot never boils'? Nope. 'An ounce of prevention'. I do everything I can to ensure my troop is in the very best of shape.... so when illness or accident occurs (God forbid) it allows them much better chances of being in the right percentage for survival and recovery. The vet team agree that it very well may have saved her life. And well, 'watching them like a hawk' probably fits in there somewhere too.

And there ends the saga of the Islay baby belly this time around. We're sad, yes, but thankful she's doing well and back to her old self again. The best ending is room for a new chapter.

The Islay Belly Saga - "Lost Love"

So my little girl is sleepy, and sad. Her bff Scarlett went back to her other parents' house as they are back from vacation.

Now, Islay loves everyone, but she has a special attachment to Scarlett. Quite bluntly, I'm pretty sure that Islay sees Scarlett as the love of her life. And yet again we have had the phrase "too happy!!" ringing through the halls; born out of a long long time ago when my roommate (and still a bestie)had an african grey parrot that would repeat anything said too emphatically. 'No humping!' therefore was just not an option.... apart from the conjecture on how funny that just might have turned out. Well, the days of roommates are gone and have been replaced with the days of young children who, although equally funny in it's own way, do not need to learn that particular phrasing. And so I return to "too happy, Islay, too happy!". Poor, sweet, hormonally confused Islay. I love her dearly regardless. Scarlett, on the other hand, could take her or leave her. Ah, the trist of unrequited love.

And so the house is eerily quiet. As sometimes (almost freakishly) happens we have only Islay and one other pup here at the moment; and Mojave Cherry Bomb will sprout wings and fly to California within the week. And my poor Islay is lonely and missing her Scarlett pillow... At least for now she has Mojave to take out the sting. Mohave got the bath of a lifetime this morning as Islay's other new habit was to preen Scarlett over and over, as you might recall. Mojave, though, seemed to rather enjoy it - he is potentially a stud in the making.

Last night brought a new set of events into our lives, as frenchies so enigmatically seem to do. Islay, who eats raw, was given a yummy dinner of part of a beef roast, spinach, cucumber and romaine. Islay never turns away food; at least not to date. In fact in my experience even the pickiest of dogs won't refuse raw meat. So eating her meals hasn't been an issue and it's left me curious as to what will happen when and if she gets the morning sickness that hits most for a least a couple of days around this point. Well, suffice it to say I am no longer curious. After 45 minutes of repeated eating, gagging, vomiting and re-eating the froth, Islay's tummy finally decided that the plate would stay clean. I, on the other hand, was just about ready to join the festivities. Now, for those of you that have seen a dog vomit (which I don't highly recommend) leftovers, or kibble or grass... you know, the typical ick, and have been thoroughly disgusted: I will very strongly urge you to not feed large pieces of raw meat to a dog that may be sick at the stomach. I believe I may have psychological damage from the experience. All that said, breakfast went down swimmingly and I think I'll stick to ground meat for her for awhile.

I have noticed a bit of swelling of the 'ninnies' (a southern word for nipples that I recently learned from a breeder I mentor - another new bestie, a second pea in the pod, and the giver of great southern phrases) which is pretty typical of early pregnancy so I have high hopes. Linda, Islay's sister and litter-mate, recently had a gorgeous litter of 4 pups so I'm continually rubbing the belly and giving those babies a pep talk. My daughter (who has an uncanny ability to guess the correct number of pups in a litter) had a wonderful conversation with the Islay belly convincing her to have 7 puppies. I may buy her that ipad she wants if she gets the Islay belly to do it and they look like Linda's!! ;)

Well, off to rub that belly! More soon!


- another AMIaBULL 2 cents from owner Sheila Saar -

Islay x Wasabi - buns in the oven

Okay, so for you who have read this before I really mean it this time: I'm going to blog the step by step of this litter!

You can't imagine how excited we are for the litter coming from our Islay by Wasabi. Not only our first completely solid litter, but one that should have rare chocolate fawns in it!!! The extra added excitement is this: though most of our dogs are co-homed - a personal sacrifice we make to ensure that our dogs have the very best, including perfect, permanent pet homes, Islay is own of our very own family pets. Yep you got it: All ours!! So as wonderful as it is to share experiences with our other 'parents' its will be exhilarating to have this one all to ourselves.

A wee background on our Islay: Islay was born 'Polar Chocolate Ven Der Monarchia' and was given to us (and we are forever thankful) by Marci at Northen Bullies who imported both her and her sister(Linda, a gorgeous fawn pied girl). Marci knew what we knew: Islay would be a perfect match for our Fawn choco boy Wasabi who joined us last year. And so arrangements were made to add our first choco girl to the AMIaBULL program. And what a girl!! She was a knock out, of course, we knew that from the photos, but her personality was absolutely perfect for us here at our home. She was laid back and friendly, loving everyone, every dog, every child she met. Outgoing, personable, charismatic and very go with the flow she fast became a favourite and we knew she was never going anywhere but here with us.

My daughter, 4 at the time, was especially smitten. Islay slept on her bed, sat by her chair, you name it they did it together. I have great photos of the night her father sternly told her that if Islay was going to sleep on her bed she was to sleep at the end of the bed on her own bed, NOT under the covers like a stuffed toy! My daughter very obediently nodded and Islay (god love her) moved to her bed on the end like the good girl she is. Now, I'm not saying there was a plan involved with what happened next, if fact, knowing them both as well as I do I would guess it was only a sleepy, getting more comfortable thing.... but not ten minutes later when I went to check on our girls I found one with her gorgeous little head on the pillow and the other sleeping contentedly: head on the other's stomach. Yep you guessed it: puppy on the pillow, little girl using puppy as a pillow. When I showed my husband the photo I'd quickly snapped on my phone he just shook his head and smiled. It was then it became poignantly clear that we now had two little girls to reckon with in the house.

Islay has only two ..... well I guess 'negative traits'. The first is that she insists on letting my children treat her like a stuffed animal. The fact that my daughter can hug her around the neck lifting her off the ground and Islay has the expression: 'more please!' on her face will someday mean bad things for a new dog in the neighbourhood, I know it. The second is that she is a 'Houdini' - meaning that she can get out of almost any confinement you can think of if she wants to. She can climb fences, push barricades, jump baby gates and break plastic crates. She also mentors other dogs. Puppies have been taught to navigate out of pens, doors, and gates.... one mother was actually taught not only to open the handle of the puppy pen, but to close the door behind her so the puppies couldn't follow!! We are talking serious genius here. My neighbour one time called me over when I was out with the dogs to let me know that they had been eating breakfast that morning looking out over the lawn and enjoying the show: Islay and Kali had been opening the enclosure at the back of our deck, going out to run around the yard and letting themselves back in whenever they to heard me coming me check on them!! Thankfully my husband does extensive renovating for a living: a wooden fence was completed and a professional run installed shortly thereafter. Saar's won that war. We lost a good number of battles getting there, though I tell you!

Flash over to Wasabi: dear wonderful, lovable, energetic Wasabi. Wasabi was a boy I saw online from a breeder in South Dakota. I knew his daddy quite well - a very famous dark chocolate boy with a head that could sink a tanker: Annette Wood's "Wotan"! Kelly Johnson at Beggin' for Bullies was great to work with and we got him up here after a few weeks of drooling at his incredible photos. From the get go he was just a super joyful little man. More energy than I'm used to in frenchies, healthy as a hog, and a way of winning everyone over. One of my girlfriends recently commented when meeting Wasabi and Islay together that she like them both but if hard pressed she preferred Wasabi!! Now - don't get me wrong, Wasabi is..... well phenomenal... but every person who has ever met Islay in this world has wanted to keep her for their own. So when she's known Islay for months and meets Wasabi and says that you have to respect it!

As an AMIaBULL stud, or rather when he was younger a 'to-be' stud,co-homes are an automatic must. I tried for years to keep a male here because I've always been a sucker for boys, but it's just too hard on them. When girls are in heat in the house it's a hormone game that's just not fun to watch. Now add the factor of any litter not to be sired by that boy has ANOTHER intact male come into the house and THEY get all the fun!!! Nope. Not a good scenario. It's hard enough to deal with one stud that smells the intoxicating scent of a woman: they stop eating, start puking, peeing, pooping, whining "I want my momma" like the dogs on AFV. No - multiplying that by two isn't good for anyone. So like my other boys, Wasabi has his perfect permanent pet home where he's loved... and spoiled.... and shown off, and I take over for vacation times (when I can), visits, and yes the 'scent of the women' moments. Wasabi's co-home is perfect for him - full of love and laid back but strict with expectations, and complete understanding of his fervent love of the world. I couldn't ask for more. I know they love them every bit as much as I do.

So last week was Honeymoon week for the two of them and it was quite a sight to see. Two very amiable AMIaBULL's flirting and playing up a storm. They truly enjoy each other's company and it was so nice to watch them play. Breeding on the other hand is never an easy feat for frenchies and there always seems to be some strange new glitch involved.

Now, Wasabi, god love him, is many things: loving, beautiful, energetic, and an incredibly healthy little stud-muffin..... but in the end: not the brightest bulb in the pack. In terms of breeding and knowing his job he's a bit of an idiot savant. He learned very quickly that in AMIaBULL terms...well..... I'm the girlfriend. That is to say Frenchies are very often impregnated via artificial insemination. Which means the stud is 'collected' from and that sample is used to inseminate the female. We have a saying here at AMIaBULL: "What happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom". And with the exception of our mentoring program (yes, Cara at Blue's City, I'm talking about you being very professionally scarred by witnessing the process) we don't really share the details of that process. Needless to say I will not go into the play by play of HOW Wasabi came to the clear understanding that it was me he should run to when a certain level of excitement is achieved. :\

What I will share is that Islay was not impressed. In fact the poor girl became so frustrated with him running over to me every time she expected (and frankly I also expected) him to try to mount her that she would sweep him every time he tried to run away and mount HIM from behind. It really was as if she's just had it and figured she knew how it was supposed to be done. Poor girl.

Well, all the vaudeville routine aside: the deed was done(...yes... by me. lol). And now we are at one week in the very exciting process of Islay's first pregnancy.

Do I feel she's pregnant? Yes. Absolutely. And her best friend Scarlett (who is visiting for the week) can attest to Islay's very motherly instinct of bathing her every time she's within reach... a new and interesting mannerism born with her hormones. (Scarlett is a Shelby keeper to be bred later this summer, and is another of my favourites.) She and Islay love each other dearly, but Scarlett would choose people over dogs any day. Oh, she snuggles and plays with Islay and enjoys every minute, but the look that she has on her face when Islay preens her is like a girl stuck on a bad date!

I will keep my eyes peeled and my typing fingers ready - more on the unraveling of this exciting AMIaBULL time soon!