I should know better

It`s been a while. Busy with canine maternity. Yet again up to my knees in puppies - well, four actually.

Vomit, already 2 days late, scraped and cried all night, so red-eyed and exhausted I prepared for birth at dawn, at least thankful for a daytime birth - vet and vampire may begin with v, and both are bloodsuckers, but only the latter come out at night.

Well, I set up the whelping bed on the sofa and sat down beside it and waited. And waited. At last at 10.45, a dog puppy, arriving with no fuss. And that, it seemed, was that. At 3pm I settled her in the heated box in the bedroom with a small meal and relaxed. Checking at 5.45, I was just in time to see a second identical male puppy arrive. Five hours has to be a record.

Puppies are fine - and clean. I stared at them for some time trying to think what was different, then it struck me. Usually puppies arrive in a wash of blood and dark green fluid, and can be stained for days - have often replied to the question "what colour?" with "green, mostly". But Vomit`s boys arrived pristine. Discussed it with BF, and we decided that it must be because she comes from the effete and cultural S of England.

Two days later (and 3 days early), Sig had her turn. Again, thank God, in daylight. The little soul strained and heaved with a will, but nothing moved. At 3 I called the vet and took her in - I suspect some vets could have manipulated the stuck puppy, but this one couldn`t, so it was a caesarian. Just as well - the puppy had to come out - but O the expense!

All very quick - in at 3, out at 5.30 with 2 puppies, one of each. I was told that the problem had been a huge dog puppy. Home with 2 clean puppies wrapped in a rug and weighed the offender. 5 ounces. Not that big, then, but much bigger than his sister.

Sig had now to come to terms with the fact that she went to the vet, fell asleep and woke up with strange little creatures desperately trying to attach themselves to her. She coped beautfully, although for the first hour she tried to lick them to death. I worried that the big boy would shoulder out his sister. No way. She was soon heaving him about like a black and white furry beachball. Having been trying to push his way out with his face for several hours, his head resembled a squashed potato, but that will come right.

So my bedroom is yet again a maternity unit, with a box of puppies on either side. Sig would quite like to adopt the other 2 puppies. But Vomit is oblivious, totally out to lunch on the far side of Planet Puppy.

Three dogs and one bitch. Two dogs will have to go. Decisions, decisions - fortunately far in the future.