As we were driving to my parent’s house over the weekend, I looked back and saw my baby and Hank, the head of ranch security. Here is a then and now photo of these two guys. Hank was 5 weeks old then and now he is almost 7 months old.
A great tribute to man’s best friend – certainly this man’s best friend.
And it all happened right here on the beautiful island of Crete. A couple of weeks ago, some friends of ours were taking out the trash (in the rain no less!) when they heard a noise coming from under some palm fronds by the dumpster. They looked around and found 2 baby puppies, still with their umbilical cords and wet from birth. Unfortunately, newborn puppies are often left by dumpsters here, but that’s another story… Fortunately, for these two cuties, someone rescued them!
Last week at our Wednesday night church service, they brought the puppies in with them looking for a sucker, uh… I mean volunteer, to take the puppies from them until they were big enough to give to the folks that wanted them. Our friends, in the meantime, were heading back to the states and the husband works all day so couldn’t be around to feed the puppies all day. So, you can see where this story is heading, right?
The next night, we picked up the puppies and brought them home with us. That’s when our little adventure began! I get the night shift with the pups, usually feeding them around 9 and 12 (and sometimes 3 if they don’t sleep through), then the early morning shift, and Ginger gets the day shift. The first morning I was up with them, I was feeding the puppies just like I had done the night before. I fed the little one (who cries the loudest and the longest) first, then fed the bigger girl. Tristan came in the room just after I had finished feeding her. It was then that I realized the puppy was not moving and just didn’t look right. I picked her up and she was completely limp – no breathing, no little puppy heartbeat, NOTHING!
Great, I have the puppies for one day and I kill one! I couldn’t let that happen without a fight – especially with Tristan sitting there in front of me, starting to look a little teary eyed. I grabbed the little puppy, pushed a few times on her chest, then stuck my mouth over her mouth and nose and gave her some air. After a few repetitions of this, she started to spit up some milk – then more and more milk. But, thanks to God granting me a miracle, she started breathing again and moving around. WHEW!!! Fortunately, she has been fine ever since!
Afterward, I did some research on the Internet and found out that I had probably fed her too much – I think the extra went into her lungs. I was under the impression that they would be like people babies and quit eating when they were full. Guess not! I won’t be making that mistake again. And Joanne, if you’re reading this – the girls are fine… now!