Tessie's Puppies: Three Weeks

Our puppies are three and a half weeks old. They're starting to eat solid food. They play and bound around and wag their tails and we want to keep them all because they're JUST THAT ADORABLE! We plan to list them on our local classified page on May 7. However, beginning on Monday, April 30, they'll be available for reservation for anyone who knows us, knows someone who knows us, follows our instagram page, or reads this blog. So basically, if you already know about these puppies, you're eligible to reserve one a week before the rest of the world. They will be ready to go home on Memorial Day.

As I mentioned before, we LOVE this breed. I've had a golden retriever in my life since I was five years old. All four of them were/are the very best family dogs. The American Kennel Club says that golden retrievers are the third most popular breed of dog behind only Labrador Retrievers and German Shepherds. They are amazing with children, relatively easy to train, and absolutely beautiful.

Our puppies are purebred, AKC registered retrievers. Both parents have hip and elbow certifications through the Orthopedic Foundation for Animals (OFA). Additionally, the pups' daddy has certifications for his eyes and heart. While Tessie doesn't have official eyes and heart certifications, these are easily examined at the vet's office and she has no heart or eye conditions.

Our puppies will come well loved and well socialized.

They'll be sent home with a starter pack of food, a couple small toys, a blanket with the smell of mom and litter mates, their first collar, pictures, and some information on the breed. Their dew claws have been removed. On adoption day, they'll come having had their first set of shots and dewormer.

We have four females (wearing pink, purple, red, and yellow) and four males (wearing green, blue, silver, and black). Currently, several of them are very calm but we definitely have some feisty ones. They range in color from light to medium. Mom, Tessie, is medium in color. Dad, Timber, is blonde. Both parents have straight hair.

If interested, email familyfishbowl@hotmail.com for a price and reservation details.

On This Day in History

On December 21, we celebrate William Bassham Day--the day we officially and permanently and forever and always solidified Will's legal place in our family. On April 21, we celebrate Matthew Bassham Day for the same reasons. While the day Will joined our family felt like a formality as, after his birth, there were no adoption complications whatsoever, Matthew's day feels like a lot less of a formality and a lot more of the-day-I-finally-exhaled-after-not-breathing-for-nearly-fourteen-months.

If you're new here which is doubtful because back in the days of our contested adoption I had a great deal more readers than I do now, you can look at the archives for 2009 and 2010 to read more about our drawn out adoption process. What I want to say about that now is this...

Matthew's mother never wavered in her desire to place him with us. Oh, to be sure, she struggled in her own heart. While I don't presume to speak for her, I can only imagine that she experienced a daily tug of war of grief and sorrow and possibly regret mixed with the feeling that hopefully she made the right choice. Publicly though, she only ever said that he was ours.

I've been thinking about this recently. If the number of times I fail as a mother were written down, I fear no volume of pages would contain them. Just a couple of days ago, irritated, once again, at Garrett, my eleven year old, for being a terrible, horrible, pack rat slob, I started yanking things out of his backpack and scolding him for carrying around trash. I was throwing several plastic water bottles onto the floor when two thoughts struck me at the exact same time.

1. The "trash" was very colorful and cut in such a way as to indicate treasure where I saw only garbage.

2. My son's face and, therefore, his spirit were crushed.

"Mom," he said quietly before I could fix it, "it isn't trash. It's my art project I've been working on all week."

In my defense, my son is notorious for carting actual trash around in his backpack for days and weeks on end. Still, I'm a horrible parent. The prosecution rests. I did apologize, telling him I realized it was something special and I had assumed too quickly that the empty water bottles were exactly what they seemed. But I will probably carry the look on his face to my grave. I could weep even now.

My parenting fails are great. I desire such a higher standard for myself. I imagined I'd do this so much better than I am. Yesterday, as I got Will ready for bed, I said, "Hey, buddy. You're adopted. Can you say adopted?" He muttered something that suggested he was trying. I continued. "Adopted means that you were in your other mommy's tummy and when you came out, she picked us to raise you." He's not even two. It's going to have to stay that simple for now.

I thought about his other mommy. I thought about Matt's other mommy. And I thought about the weight of what I'm doing. I love Will and Matthew like they were birthed out of my very own body. Perhaps that doesn't make sense if you've never adopted a child but there are times when I forget that their story did not start with me. But the truth is they didn't begin with me. They began with their first mothers.

Regardless of circumstances, each of those women chose me. In a way, they hand picked me out of all the other mothers. Not only did they invite me in to one of the most intimate relationships known to mankind, they then turned around and walked away, leaving their heart in my arms and trusting me to love it more than my own life. I do not just owe it to myself and my children to hope and pray they turn out alright. I owe it to their mothers.

I will fail. I know that. I hope they know that. I hope that they will forgive my failures and my short comings. And I hope that, when their children are grown, they can say that they would choose me all over again. Raising their children--raising my children--is not a responsibility I take lightly. Motherhood is the single most important job I will ever have and I'm doing it, not only for myself, but for them.

On this day, eight years ago, I breathed a deep sigh of relief that my boy was mine forever. But he will never be only mine. He is ours. And I will strive to do my very best with him. For him. And for her.

***********************************
If you're an adoptive parent, regardless of how your children came to you, regardless of the circumstances surrounding their placement with you, be sure to think about their first parents and your responsibility to them. You are holding a significant piece of them in your arms. Love well. Love honorably. Love in such a way that when your child connects with his first family--whenever that might be--you are held in high esteem in the eyes of your child and in the eyes of his family.

Hamilton

I'll be honest, when I listened to the Hamilton cast album for the first time more than two years ago, I didn't initially love it. I'd heard of the show because I was obsessed with If/Then which had been running at the Richard Rodgers Theatre. It closed and Hamilton moved in. I heard the hype and I kind of thought, "A show about Alexander Hamilton? That sounds maybe not amazing." Ever so slowly, I started reading about it. I started hearing the insane Tony buzz. I decided to listen to some of the songs on the Internet.

Hip hop and rap aren't my musical genre of choice, usually. It was Jonathan Groff, coming in at song number 6, that won me over. Jonathan Groff doesn't typically have to do too much to win me over. I mean, in Frozen he's singing to a reindeer for crying out loud and I'm riveted. I decided I loved that King George so much that I'd start over with more of an open mind.

Looking back, this is hysterical. King George's part is funny. It's like the cherry on top of the delicious sundae. But it isn't the sundae itself.

I fell hard. Within the day, I'd purchased the album. I was head over heels in love with Hamilton. Lin-Manuel Miranda is a genius. Leslie Odom Jr. has a voice like butter. The entire cast is incredible. I watched the Tony's with a great deal of interest and celebrated the wins. I soaked up the PBS special. I read interviews. I got really, very into it.

Two nights ago, I had the opportunity to see it from the 7th row. I could see the spit flying from the mouths of the actors. The sweat coming from their heads was visible. The show was fantastic. While I will readily admit that several of the actors just couldn't possibly live up to the original cast members (here's looking at you, Burr) I will also say that I certainly didn't expect them to. Three of the original cast members won Tony's for their performances. That's a tough standard to live up to. I was so impressed by the ensemble. I've never seen members of the ensemble working as hard as they do in Hamilton. It's like a marathon of never ending energy.

At intermission, I was texting my friend. She asked if I had cried yet. Truthfully, I had a few really annoying people around me. For the first act, the two people behind me felt the need to repeat every joke and then discuss it. Clearly they'd never heard the soundtrack and knew little about what they were seeing. Season ticket holders, maybe. At one point, after significant talking from them, the wife laughed. The husband leaned over and said, "What did he say?"

"Martha Washington named her favorite tom cat after him."

In my own head I imagined a scene in which I turned around and screamed, "FERAL! IT'S FERAL TOM CAT! NOT FAVORITE! IF YOU'D LISTENED TO THE SHOW EVEN ONCE BEFORE TONIGHT, MAYBE YOU WOULD NOT BE TALKING SO INCESSANTLY ABOUT EVERY FUNNY LINE!"

So, no, I hadn't cried during the first act because seated behind me were two chatterboxes. Strangely, however, I did get choked up during That Would Be Enough which is weird. I don't ever get emotional during that song. The staging of it had me thinking so much about unborn Philip Hamilton and that made me think of the later dead young adult Philip Hamilton and my eyes got misty.

Really though, despite my annoying buddies behind me, the first act was hugely enjoyable. We saw an understudy for Ham and he was phenomenal. Shoba Narayan killed it as Eliza. I found myself riveted to her character with a sentiment that, when I'm listening to the cast album, is usually reserved for Angelica. (Because, Renee Elise Goldsberry--come on. She wins at life.)

The neighbors behind me were much quieter during Act 2. I don't know if someone asked them to PLEASE SHUT UP or if there just wasn't as much to discuss. They'd really only talked about the funny lines and the second act has a lot less of those moments. Something happened, however, and the two people in front of me took over as the EVEN MORE OBNOXIOUS theatre patrons. For the entire act, the woman continually leaned over and told the man what was happening. In great detail. In a regular talking voice. As though she was teaching him a history lesson. This got so bad that I looked over, continually, at the usher standing next to us. She was somehow not distracted by this as she stood against the wall with her face enraptured with the joy of Hamilton. I would have to get up, walk over, and complain. And I wanted to be enjoying every moment of my show. At one point, the teenage girls next to me, who were delightful, were very visibly annoyed. It wasn't just me, is what I'm saying.

As for crying, I was actually kind of dreading It's Quiet Uptown. If I listen to that song, in my car, with my boys slugging each other in the backseat, during rush hour, I get choked up. I wasn't sure how I'd ever survive it performed live.

I have said many, many times, that I simply cannot imagine losing one of the children I have raised. The mere thought of burying a child I know, with all his personality and quirks and delights does me in. Because I've buried one I hadn't met and it was the most miserable thing I've ever been called to do.

There are moments that the words don't reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
And push away the unimaginable

The moments when you're in so deep

It feels easier to just swim down

The Hamiltons move uptown

And learn to live with the unimaginable

I was crying before it even started. I was crying because Philip was dying and Alexander was holding him and I was thinking about Dear Theodosia. Then Eliza ran in and Philip died and Eliza screamed and the theatre was silent. Even the talkers weren't talking and you could have heard a pin drop.

I think of that phone call that changed everything for me, that phone call that took away my daughter. You hold your child as tight as you can, and push away the unimaginable. She was in my arms. Dead. The idea of her gone forever. If I lose Garrett or Matthew or Will, the scream will not just be heard throughout a silent theatre. It may, perhaps, be heard around the world. Tears ran down my face as they sang. I heard sniffing behind me. I wondered if I might let out an audible sob and I began to focus heavily on making sure that didn't happen. It wrecked me in a cathartic and theatrical way so that, in the wreckage, I found myself emotionally spent in, somehow, a good way.

A colleague of mine recently told me she thought Hamilton was repetitive and overrated. She hasn't listened to the entire soundtrack, mind you, but this is her conclusion. Fine. We're all entitled to our own opinions. I believe Lin-Manuel Miranda is a creative genius. I find his work to be neither repetitive nor overrated. She says hip hop and rap aren't her thing. Neither are they mine. But they flow into and out of his work in such a symbolic way that I am brought to a place of complete respect and utter enjoyment. She says she's just not a bandwagon jumper. Fair enough. But Hamilton is one bandwagon for which I am thankful to have jumped upon.

It is not just a piece of theatre. It is an experience. An experience I am so very grateful to have been able to have.

Tessie's Puppies

Have you ever seen a picture of perfectly lined up golden retriever puppies where all of them are sleeping and looking adorable? Me too. It's great. Have you ever attempted to get a perfect picture of perfectly lined up golden retriever puppies where all of them are sleeping and looking adorable? I have. I'm now convinced that this is only achieved through a heavy sedative. Since we have not sedated our dogs, we spent too long attempting to get a picture of them. This was the best we got. They simply won't stay still for even a moment.

They are in order, however, which is a miracle in and of itself. That's Leia there on the far left end, Chewbacca is climbing on top of Leia. Skywalker is next up. Then Jyn is on top of Skywalker. Sabine is number five with Obi on top of her. The last two are Finn and Rey.

They still haven't opened their eyes but should start in the next few days. They're still deaf. Their sense of smell is still remarkable. Yesterday, I was sitting in the whelping box between the puppies and their mama. They were asleep. When they wanted to eat, one by one they crawled behind me and straight to their mother.

Their faces have filled out with fur and they are growing soooo fast. Our biggest puppy, Chewbacca, is 2 lbs 5 oz. Our smallest two (today that was Obi and Rey) are 1 lb 15 oz.

This puppy fell asleep in Garrett's arms and his mouth hung open like that for quite some time. It was so adorable.

Speaking of my children, this has been such an incredible experience for them. I can't imagine the amount of tears that will be shed when they go to their new homes. I may be inconsolable. The children, forget about it. But NINE full grown golden retrievers is INSANE and so, to new homes they must go.

Both older boys were part of Tessie's birthing experience and were amazing. We could totally live on a working farm and they'd be cool with it. We won't live on a farm, mind you. But we could. Now, they're helpful with puppy snuggle time, cleaning up messes, feeding Tessie 82,000 times a day because the puppies are eating all her calories, and making sure Tessie gets attention from us--not just the sometimes obnoxious attention of eight puppies.

Matthew loves them. This morning, I yelled down to make sure everyone was ready to leave for school. "Matthew, what are you doing right now?"

"Oh, I'm just sitting in the box with the puppies."

This kid loves them too. He likes to say, "Puppies!" and "Cute!" And, really, a litter of golden retriever puppies climbing on a toddler...

What could be cuter?

The puppies are ten days old today. They'll be ready for their forever homes on Memorial Day. That gives us 46 more days with them. What memories we must make in those days.

Breeding Tessie: Part Two

Tessie's pregnancy was text book.

We noticed, around week three, that she wasn't interested in food. She'd take a bite here and there but was generally experiencing morning sickness. I read that on day 21, the dog's gums may appear white. This sounded ridiculous but I pulled Tessie's lips up and, sure enough, her gums were white. Her nipples changed color and then, eventually, grew tremendously in size. Finally, she began to swell to epic proportions and her breasts developed. About two weeks before delivery, if we put our hands on her abdomen, we could feel tiny flutters. Finally, about a week before whelping, the puppies began to flip and flop and somersault. Or, perhaps, they were just kicking their little legs. Either way, Tessie's entire body seemed to roll and quake with the movement of all her puppies.

Troy built a whelping box a couple of weeks before the puppies were due. Tessie showed absolutely no interest in it until the day before her puppies were born. 

I'd read countless resources about what to expect, when to intervene, what our role should be, etc. My boys had begged me every night to let them watch YouTube videos of puppies being born. This proved to be quite beneficial for all of us. The gestation period for a dog is 63 days which was Wednesday, April 4. We knew we were expecting the puppies between days 58 and 68 but I also knew that if puppies hadn't appeared by day 64, I should call the vet and have her seen--just to be on the safe side.

We had a Good Friday service (day 58) and, of course, an Easter service (day 60) that we were really hoping to make it through. That said, we were hoping they'd be born soon after because the boys and I were off this week for Spring Break. We began taking turns sleeping downstairs with Tessie on day 56.  She went off of food on day 58 except for the occasional bite. The night before Easter, I slept downstairs. I got roughly two hours of sleep. Tessie was restless. She began trying to nest right in front of our garage door. She paced. In the morning, however, she seemed back to normal and completely fine. 

That evening, around 7:00 pm, she entered the box and began panting fairly rapidly. Troy spent the night with her and said she was fine. She just panted a lot as she worked through the early stages of labor. On Monday morning (we couldn't have picked a better day as it is Troy's day off and we were all on Spring Break), she continued panting. Knowing that the first stage of labor can last a long time, and having watched many videos of the second stage of labor--often excessive digging at the box, whining, etc--I believed we still had a few hours before birth was imminent. 

Garrett and I went down to clean his closet. We'd been down there for about a half hour when I heard Troy's voice. It was steady and fairly quiet, so as not to cause distress to Tessie, but carried a command with it. "Lori!"

I yelled up, "What?" but even as I was saying it, I knew. I took the stairs three at a time. Tessie was standing. A puppy's head was protruding from her. The puppy was no longer in its sack and was squealing. Tessie's lady parts were stretched to insane proportions. I had never, in all my YouTube viewing experiences, seen anything like it. Tessie kept lying down and standing up and no progress was being made at all. I tried to massage her to provide some assistance, knowing that I could do nothing to really help until the shoulders of the puppy were out. Finally, Tessie pushed again and not one but two puppies were born. She'd had two puppies occupying her birth canal at once. It boggles the mind. The very thought of it makes me want to howl in pain and she never once made a single peep. Well done, her.

Once we'd bred Tessie, we tossed ideas around for names. We know these are temporary until they go to their forever homes and get their names. But we're big on adoption around here and these are kind of their birth names. We tossed around different themes. Finally, it hit me. Star Wars names. I've only seen one Star Wars film in its entirety. They're just not my jam. But my boys love the entire Star Wars franchise. I thought I'd be a super cool mom if I pitched Star Wars even if I would rather have a bunch of puppies running around with Shakespeare names. A puppy named Lady Macbeth, come on!

At 10:10 am, our first girl was born, Leia--marked orange. At 10:10 am, coming out with the back half of Leia, our first boy, Chewbacca (Chewy)--marked green, was born. We tried to tie yarn to their feet so we could distinguish between pups but they immediately slipped out of it. We quickly switched to a swipe of nail polish on the back of the miniature canine, near its tail.

At 10:38, our second boy was born. He was the second smallest pup and came out all by himself, as is usually the way. Tessie, who had been attending to Leia and Chewy, just suddenly looked behind her and there was another puppy. I think after having Leia and Chewy (who were the two biggest pups) at the same time was by far the worst for her. Subsequent puppies seemed to almost just appear without fanfare. We named this little guy Skywalker and marked him with blue.

Three puppies in under a half hour had to have been draining on our girl. She took a long break before giving birth to number four almost two hours later. Our boys had been alternating watching Will and watching puppies. After all this time, Will was losing his mind and Troy decided to take him out of the house to get some lunch. He missed this one's birth at 12:23. I noticed Tessie lift her tail slightly and then bear down a couple of times. I grabbed my phone and videotaped this pup's birth. It was a girl, marked with purple and called Jyn.

Nearly an hour later, at 1:18, Sabine, marked with pink, came out. Jyn and Sabine look identical and, if not for their color markers, we would never be able to tell the difference between them. Tessie went a little nuts chewing through Sabine's umbilical cord and she began to bleed profusely. We'd set up a whelping table just outside the box with gloves, towels, nail polish, nasal aspirator, scissors, rubbing alcohol, q-tips, dental floss, and our food scale. We were able to quickly grab dental floss and, while I held the gushing puppy, Troy tied off her cord. I have no idea what would happen in the wild because, realizing there was a large amount of blood, Tessie licked the puppy like crazy and would hold her tongue firmly on her belly. Perhaps this would have been enough to eventually stop the bleeding. However, we were right there and happy to use our opposable thumbs and finger dexterity to help out. 

Twenty minutes later, brother Obi--marked black--joined the five at 1:38. We had a repeat cord mangling as Tessie, trying to be efficient, caused a bit of trauma. This time we just quickly took the puppy, tied off his cord, and handed him back to mama.

The first six. Obi is still damp and not yet marked.

Tessie took another long break after Obi. We could still feel what we thought were puppies inside and she was still panting so we thought there would be more but we weren't sure. After an hour and a half, Troy decided to run to get his hair cut a mile away. Garrett remarked, "You know she'll have a puppy as soon as you leave." He walked out the door and Tessie began to raise her tail and bear down. Laughing, I said, "Garrett, go get dad before he leaves." Garrett ran out but somehow Troy had already left. 

I wish he hadn't. The amount of blood coming from umbilical cords had been concerning but we'd remedied those situations in a matter of a minute. Leia and Chewy being born at the same time was concerning to us but they were healthy and completely fine. Our seventh pup was born at 3:17 and he did not move. The others all began to breathe right away. Number seven just laid there. Tessie licked him and ate his placenta and he didn't do anything. She was agitated. She was trying to revive him with her tongue. I thought he was stillborn. Then he took a weird breath. It was labored and wet sounding. He didn't attempt to breathe again. I grabbed the nasal aspirator and shoved it into his mouth. Gunk and fluid came out. He gurgled but did nothing more. I had Garrett give me a towel and I wrapped him in it and frantically began to rub him. After about a minute, he took a big breath and then began breathing normally. He was the tiniest of all our puppies. He's catching up--today he weighed the exact same as brother, Obi--but I have a soft spot for this little one. We call him Finn and marked him with silver.

We had no sooner got Finn breathing and cleaned off when, twelve minutes later, his sister was born. The boys said, "I think she's having another one!" and they were right. Rey--marked red--was born at 3:29. At this point, Rey is Tessie's clone. The other three girls are blonde like their daddy. Rey definitely has Tessie's coloring.

Tessie continued to pant for quite awhile and we kept thinking there would be another pup but, after four hours passed, we were comfortable calling the litter at eight. Four boys. Four girls.

There really is nothing much cuter than a golden puppy.

Unless, of course, it's a litter of golden puppies.

Tessie did amazingly well. When Garrett was born, I told Troy that I thought I'd missed my calling as a labor and delivery nurse. I found the process of birthing that child to be incredible. Then, when Matthew was born, I got to the be there and it was amazing all over again. I sat in the box with Tessie from start to finish, climbing out only to use the restroom and wolf down some lunch. Witnessing the miracle of the birth of her puppies was fascinating and beautiful (and sometimes messy and scary) and completely worth it. Seeing instinct take hold as she just knew to chew through their cords, free them from the placenta, clean them off, and get them eating was moving. Seeing the pups instantly, without being able to see or hear, climb over to their mother using only their sense of smell and immediately begin to try to nurse just baffled our minds.

I remarked about this very thing to Troy and he sarcastically replied, "Yes. It's amazing how all of this just happens by random chance."

Just 65 days ago, we bred our dog. Now there are four day old puppies squeaking in my family room. They're proficient eaters now. They all gravitate to their poor, exhausted mama and drape themselves over every inch of her in blind trust and need. They've all gained at least 5 oz since birth. They're doing well.

And I'm pretty glad I let my boys talk me into this. I'll report in with their progress throughout the coming weeks. You can follow the puppies at tandtpuppies on instagram.

Breeding Tessie: Part One

When our boy, Beck, died suddenly in June of 2015, I wanted a new puppy much more immediately than I ever thought I would. He'd been my first baby and our loyal companion for eleven years. You can't replace that. But, we were grieving the loss of Kate and Beck's sudden death several months later was more than I could bear. So we bought our Tessie and, aside from eating walls when she was a puppy and the fact that she will still "Happy Potty" on the floor, she's been fantastic. She's needy and hairy and obnoxious like all golden retrievers but she behaves, she is much less neurotic than her predecessor, and she's a complete sweetheart.

Almost as soon as we brought home a female dog, my boys started asking me if we could breed her.

NO.

I did not want to deal with heat cycles and the breeding process and PUPPIES for eight weeks until they go to good homes. They persisted. They told me all the reasons we should do it. They dragged their dad on board until I was the only level headed human in the house. They wore me down and I decided that we wouldn't spay her before her first heat. I wasn't convinced but I wasn't unconvinced, either.

To make a long, two and a half year, story short, we did decide to breed our retriever. It wasn't a decision we came to lightly and we were very critical of Tessie's temperament and her health. We came to this decision based on many factors. Our older boys are the perfect age to get an upfront science lesson as well as take on some of the responsibility of puppy rearing. We believe so strongly in this breed of dog. We have never regretted having our golden retrievers. They have both been spectacular with our children and that is the single most important thing to us. If we can breed our dog and provide a great family pup to people, we're happy to do it. Once.

I have not talked publicly about this process because we have many friends who believe strongly in only getting a dog from a shelter. While we absolutely support people who choose shelter dogs, we truly don't believe it is the only way any more than we believe that adopting children is the only way to build a family. I've blogged about this before. Still, I didn't want to open up a giant can of worms with my friends. This is why I haven't blogged about it until now and why I haven't posted any pictures on Facebook. I finally decided that I would like to chronicle this process and my blog is the best place I know to do that. Additionally, unless I link directly to Facebook, almost no one reads my blog anymore. So, if you're here reading about our puppies, thank you for being one of the faithful.

After Tessie, who is AKC registered, turned two, we paid a hefty sum of money to have her hips and elbows OFA certified. Goldens are notorious for having joint issues and we absolutely did not want to breed her if she might pass down bad joints. It was a financial risk we were willing to take. Her hips came back as excellent and her elbows as good!Tessie typically went about eight months between heat cycles and so we anticipated breeding her in early December. We found a stud dog in our local classifieds and I contacted his owner so we'd all be ready.

And then Tessie surprised us and didn't go into heat until mid January.

At what we thought was the appropriate time, Timber's owner brought him over to play. He was a perfect gentleman and they literally only played. It was a great first date and it was clear that Tessie wasn't ready. He came again. Again, they did nothing but play. We waited a couple days. On January 31, I met Timber's owner halfway between our homes. Timber hopped into my van and we took off for our house. This time, it didn't take long for Tim and Tess to get to the business of puppy making.

Timber

He stayed and played for the entire day. Timber never really left her side. That night, we put Tessie in her kennel. Timber slept right outside her kennel and the next morning I let them out. We were all getting ready for the day. Matthew was eating breakfast. "Matt," I said, "Yell up to me if they get stuck together." We'd already explained the strange art of dog mating to our older boys. 

Not two seconds later he screamed, "They're stuck together."

Two successful ties. Now all we had to do was wait to see if puppies were on their way.