I put a lot of effort into not telling dog stories. I’ve done it before, and swear I’ll not mention them for at least the next year. Then what happens? I can’t let it go.
I’m talking about our dogs. Coffee, the mother; Rebelle the daughter.
Backstory: A breeder friend asked if we would take Coffee up to and including the birth. We bought a kid’s pool to welp them. He promised to be there. He arrived with the fifth already coming out of the womb.
We went through the same process a second time, because we enjoyed the first so much. Rosanne being a nurse helped one heck of a lot. For this, he would give us a pup from the second litter.
We chose a female. We named her Rebelle. While being weened off Coffee at the breeder’s place, Rebelle got an infection in one eye, and lost it. We took her regardless even though he offered another. Coffee would retire here with us in Woodbridge.
We’ve never had two dogs at the same time. German Shepherds at that.
Rebelle is ten months old. Coffee won’t tell us her age. The little one has the habit of biting her mother’s ears. Grabbing a paw. Sneaking up behind Coffee and crunching on her tail. When she gets tired of her daughter’s antics, she gives her a swat or a nip. And Rebelle backs off.
Author’s comment: Watching their relation grow is a delight. Best when they push my ajar office door open and come in. They sniff me to make sure I’m okay, and lie down close by. They’ll stay for the next two hours. Eyes shut. Well, three eyes shut.
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