She gave birth to three baby girl Poodles, all shiny black. Silver Poodles are born black, but the fur grows in silver. With their first haircuts, the little silver faces emerge.
PJ and DA were awake for the occasion, but when it was all over, they asked something like, “Is that all there is?” and went back to bed.
I called PJ from work in the morning to see how things were going.
“Terrible.” She was practically in tears.
My heart jumped to my throat.
“Misty’s growling at Chamois. She won’t even let Chamois or Timmy into the room.” I convinced her that this was just a post-partum protective move, not a lifelong rift.
I always thought that puppies in a litter would be like identical peas in a pod, but it isn’t so. Each Poodle has its own individuality from the very beginning.
Ashley was the first-born and most adventurous, always going further and faster than the other ones. She used her size to win all the puppy fights. Chelsea was the middle pup, a natural follower. When Ashley conquered new territory, Chelsea was right behind her. The last born, Tule, (pronounced Tul-ee for those of you who don’t have our marvelous winter ground fog) was the pup with star quality, even before she opened her eyes. She had a spark that set her apart from the other puppies. This is what I was looking for. She was the pup I would keep.
But it didn’t quite work out that way.