Looloo

Nine years ago, on January 31^st, 2011, Koochooloo gave birth to Looloo. She was still a puppy herself. When I got her and her brother in May, 2010, they were only four weeks old and already separated from their mother. At the time, I planned to have them spayed and neutered during the winter holidays because I wanted to be home to take care of them. Unfortunately, my horny little puppies got pregnant on December 2^nd, right before my eyes. I think I screamed “Nooooo!” when I caught them in the act in the yard right under my banana tree. They ignored me, of course. I was terrified because they were brother and sister, from the same litter, and I thought their offspring would be deformed in some way. After much research on the internet, I found that the first generation would most likely be fine, so I read every article and suggestion offered online about dog pregnancy and the birth process. By the end of the week, I had prepared a special diet for her, which I followed religiously. Eventually, I also prepared a bed for her and placed it in the kitchen. On the kitchen table, I placed six clear containers. I had sterilized surgical scissors and umbilical scissors in one container and wash cloths in another. I had a dozen pairs of gloves, four small towels, 2 sheets, and eight baby blankets in the other containers, all ready for the day.

Dog pregnancies last between 58 and 68 days. Her belly started showing only after the third week, but since I had witnessed the start date, I knew when I was getting closer to the magical day, so I started sleeping downstairs on the couch to be close to her. In the early hours of January 31^st, I was upstairs brushing my teeth to get ready for bed... I mean couch. As soon as I rinsed my mouth and closed the faucet, I heard her breathing loud and fast. I rushed downstairs and there she was having her first baby. It was 1:45 am. The pup was black and brown just like Hoppoo, its daddy. Koochooloo started licking her baby, and I stayed close to her and watched, just like everyone had advised online. I was not to interfere because she would know what to do. I was just to be nearby so that she could see me.

After about ten minutes, Koochooloo stopped licking her puppy. She was chewing the umbilical cord. I'd read that they did that and ate it, too. It was nutritious and helped the mommy stay strong for the process of birth and the nursing afterward. I looked carefully and saw that the pup wasn't moving. I waited ten or fifteen seconds, and she seemed to be done with the pup, which was separated from her because she had eaten the cord connecting them. It wasn't moving. I touched it with two fingers. No movement. I picked it up with gloves on and held it in a wash cloth. It didn't seem alive. I started rubbing its body to keep it warm, willing it to move, to come to life. I took one glove off and went on rubbing it in vain for over five minutes. I cried quietly and wrapped its dead body in a towel. I was going to put it away, but Koochooloo wanted to see it. I held her little boy close to her and unwrapped the towel in front of her, telling her that he was gone and that I was going to put it away. I kissed her forehead. I took a shoe box from the garage and put the dead puppy in it still wrapped in the towel, but I couldn't bring myself to just dump it in the trash, so I placed the box on the kitchen counter until I could figure out what to do with it.

I went back to Koochooloo. She looked sad or depressed or in pain, or perhaps sad and depressed and in pain. She was just lying there. I didn't know exactly what to expect, but I knew things hadn't gone the way they should have. I sat next to her and gently placed my hand on her body telling her what a good girl she'd been and how much I loved her.

We'd connected, really connected, only a few months before. She'd been a wild puppy when I'd first brought her home. Not wanting to be touched or be told what to do, she'd never even made eye contact with me. It wasn't just me; she was mean to her own brother, too. She was a real bitch. Hoppoo, on the other hand, had connected with me that very first day. He was kind and loving to me and to her. The first time Koochooloo really wanted me was when she was about four months old. She and Hoppoo were playing and chasing each other around the house and she hit her head against the riser of the first step in the staircase leading upstairs. I gasped when it happened, but she continued to run for a few seconds before she felt the pain, at which point she walked toward me and allowed me to hold her. I think that was when she decided to trust me. Her behavior toward me changed that day and she was all lovey dovey after that.

Sitting there, on the floor, I didn't know what to do for her. I didn't know if that was the only puppy she was going to have. I didn't know how badly the pup's death affected her. I knew I had to be there for her, but I didn't know how.

I called Cathy, a lady I'd met at my writing group, who had given me her number because she'd had many dogs and gone through this several times before. She'd told me to call her day or night if there was a problem and she would come over. I called her at 2:45am. I felt bad about waking her up and pulling her out of her house, but this had become a problem I didn't know how to solve. She answered after the first ring and said she'd be at my house as soon as possible.

While I was waiting for Cathy, I saw Koochooloo get up and get out of bed. She walked to the door like she did when she needed to go out to do her business. I put her leash on, and Hoppoo, who had quietly been watching everything, joined us. We went out for a walk. After a few minutes, she seemed to feel better. Maybe it was the fresh air or maybe it was that she relieved herself. Or maybe walking had made her feel like herself again. By the time we went back inside, she looked happy. As soon as we went inside, she went straight to her bed. That's when I knew it wasn't over.

Cathy arrived at 3:15am as Koochooloo was pushing out her second pup. A white puppy came out, but Koochooloo didn't lick it or anything. I didn't know if she was exhausted or what, but I knew if I didn't do anything, we might lose this one, too. I put a pair of gloves on, took it, and started rubbing it. After a minute or so, Cathy told me to stop. She said it was gone. I couldn't stop, though. I kept rubbing it, feeling my eyes well up. After more than two minutes later, the pup moved in my hand and made a sound. It was a boy. I was still sitting on the floor then. I put the pup next to his mommy. She licked him. I got up and took the scissors from the container and cut the umbilical cord. I picked up the puppy again. He looked like a lamb. I took a picture of him and named him Looloo right away. (The word “loup” in French, pronounced “loo” means wolf, but “Loo” was too short, and I wanted it to match Hoppoo and Koochooloo, so I named him “Looloo.”) Then I put him back in with Koochooloo. She looked proud and happy and tired, all at the same time.

After a few minutes, Koochooloo did a very strange thing. She got out of her bed and walked to the kitchen cabinet and reached up. Up above her, on the counter, was the shoebox with the dead puppy in it. I was in tears. I looked at Cathy. She told me to let her see it again. I took the box and gently placed it on the floor. I took the lid off. Koochooloo grabbed the edge of the towel with her teeth and tugged on it. When she saw the pup's body, she sniffed it for a while. Then she just stared at it for a moment and walked back to her bed and started licking Looloo.

An hour later, I didn't know if she was going to have more pups or not. It was about 4:30am, and I needed to know whether or not I was going to work that day. The first two had come 90 minutes apart. I asked Cathy. She didn't know. I called the emergency veterinary service and asked them how I could tell. They said the only way was to do an X-ray to see if there were bones in her belly. I needed to find out if there were any more pups and, if so, how many, so I took them all to the vet, placing Koochooloo and Looloo in a crate, which I had lined with a soft blanket, and Hoppoo in a purse. I took the shoebox, too. Cathy went home to get some sleep.

At the animal hospital, the vet examined Looloo and his mom, telling me they were doing perfectly well. She took a look at the dead pup and told me both he and Looloo were very big for pups that had just been born. She congratulated me on having fed Koochooloo well during her pregnancy. It was true that I had paid close attention to her food intake during that time. Every single day, I'd boiled an egg and given her the white, I'd grated half an apple for her, and I'd made sure she ate a piece of beef liver. This was in addition to the regular food I was giving her and Hoppoo. The vet recommended some commercial dog foods. When I told her I was cooking for the dogs every day, she was impressed.

Koochooloo's X-ray revealed there were no more pups. She'd had just the two, making me the proud owner of three dogs. I told the vet the dead pup looked just like a miniature Hoppoo sleeping peacefully and I didn't have the heart to dispose of it. I asked her if they could do it. She said it was understandable and she would take care of it.

I took my three dogs home. I cleaned up the mess and threw away the temporary bed I'd made for Koochooloo. I'd already prepared a nice comfortable bed for her to stay in. Hoppoo stayed in the old bed he and Koochooloo had shared. For the next couple of weeks, Koochooloo was busy with her baby, and I spent a lot of time with Hoppoo who was feeling lonely without his sister by his side. Hoppoo and I went on long walks together, and every night, all four of us slept in my bed. I had put my large bed against the wall and closed off all its sides so that Looloo wouldn't fall off. He liked to crawl around when he wasn't eating or sleeping, even when his eyes were still closed.

Looloo finally opened his eyes when he was about two weeks old. At the time, he happened to be in my arms, so I was honored to be the first to make eye contact with him. He took his first steps a few days after that. Koochooloo and Hoppoo were perfect parents to this little boy, Koochooloo licking him, growling at him, teaching him lessons, and kissing him afterward, and Hoppoo chasing him around and teaching him to play ball. When he turned one year old, Looloo became a big boy, bigger than his mommy and his daddy.

My three dogs and I have been through some tough times together, and we have taken care of each other. They've taught me a lot about life. Nine years later, we're still together, and they are still my masters.