Gary Greene’s Memories from an old Hunter…#40
In 2011, my chocolate lab Hershey was about to have her second litter. I had been retired for several years and I had no time commitments, except two weeks out of the year, I drove to Milwaukee to teach eight hour day, college classes. Of course, the first day of class, Hershey was primed to give birth. For supervision, I had my two neighbor girls and sisters, Holly (12) and Maggy (10) Hough babysit my dog. Since we were country neighbors, they were frequently at my house and Hershey knew them well. Lisa, the girls’ mom, said she would stop in if the girl’s had a problem.
Hershey with her two pups Elsie and Nyjer on the birthing couch. (2011)
So I could leave for work, the girls arrived, excited and on time at 6:30am on June 21st, and Hershey was already panting heavily and looked very uncomfortable, so being the experienced breeder (one time before) that I was, I told the girls the puppies could arrive anytime. We had gone over the delivery steps and they were smart girls, so I felt fairly comfortable, but Hershey certainly wasn’t. To check on Hershey’s progress, I called almost every hour and no change was reported by the girls. It was nearly 5pm, when I arrived home only to get the same report from two very discouraged young ladies and I checked on my dog that was lying on the couch next to the whelping box used during her previous delivery.
I walked the girls outside, thanked them, gave them a hug and a little money for all their time. I couldn’t have been outside more than five minutes, when I checked on Hershey, still on the couch. She already had given birth to one puppy and she had it cleaned up and a second was on its’ way. I didn’t want to move her at that time, so the second was born on the couch and she started cleaning that one when the next pup was out. When I finally got her to move to the whelping box, thirty minutes had passed and five pups were already born on my couch. The next half hour produced three more puppies and the last two came at one hour intervals with the final total being ten healthy pups.
Elsie and her less than a week old, eight puppies. (2014)
To have those first five pups born in that thirty minute span, intentionally, she had to have held them in. The next three pups also came out quickly being born in the next thirty minutes. Previously, in a different memory, I mentioned Hershey’s rapid fire births, but now I have two theories. One, Hershey was waiting for the girls to leave, or two, Hershey held those puppies waiting for me to arrive home. I have read that when pregnant wolves sense danger, they have been known to withhold delivery until the danger has passed. So I will go with that premise.
For the second time, Hershey was a great mother with her pups, licking them, and cleaning up all the pups’ placentas, and later, all the following urine and feces.
My couch was never the same after the five births that it absorbed that afternoon. I attempted to clean the cushions, but they were beyond cleaning.
Sometime later, my sons helped with the moving of that couch out to the burn pile. They were gagging from the smell as they were carrying that uniquely, odor filled, birthing couch. As beers are being shared with my sons, that moving of the couch still is a popular topic, with them wondering how I could have left that stinky couch in the house for any period of time. “Hey, alone, it was too heavy for me to move!”
I mentioned this previously in a memory, but it’s worth repeating and pertains to this time period. The lady that I was dating at the time suggested we keep two pups rather than just one. I agreed with Chris, and soon thereafter I asked her to marry me. Any woman that wants to have more dogs than I do I couldn’t let her get away. Plus, she was a veterinarian.
Side Note: When Chris and I were married, our wedding party consisted of our children and some almost like our children, young adults. Among them were Holly and Maggy, my dog watcher neighbors. Each member was matched with one of our seven dogs.
I always wanted all my pups to have great homes, so I was selective, attempting to sell to good people. One couple was caring with the pups, and nice enough, but they stood out, way out.
One Sunday, a couple in their fifties, seeking a puppy, came to my mini-farm and sat under my old maple tree holding two of our unsold pups. They stayed for over four hours and for some dumb reason, I felt obligated to keep them company. They said they just couldn’t decide which pup, if any, they wanted. They came back the next Sunday for another four hours and sat under that old maple, and played with the two pups. This time, I greeted them, but I did my yard work rather than being annoyed. Again, they left unable to make a decision. By this time, Chris and I were referring to them as the crazy hippies. Well, without calling in advance, the following Sunday they returned again. I was irritated, I told them I wasn’t their free weekly entertainment and to make a decision, to buy a pup or leave. They said they were going to choose a pup that day and after another four hours, they finally bought one of the pups. Two months later, they called me complaining that the pup had too much energy and they didn’t want it anymore. I set them up with Jesse, one of my hunting partners, who had purchased one of Hershey’s first litter pups and decided he wanted another. In the end, it all worked out great for the pup as she is a great hunter and family dog, and she is named Abby rather than Sunflower or Lilac or whatever those hippies had named her.
Chris and I decided we wanted to continue our linage of our Hershey. We loved her personality as a family member and for me, as a pheasant hunting guide, she was great in the field. We wanted a third generation puppy. We had kept two black pups from that birthing couch litter and they were now three years old and they matured into Nyjer, a black, muscular, 100 pound male and Elsie a beautiful, black 80 pound female.
Elsie was to be our next mother and I planned this well in advance so that there were no couches around when she was near delivery time. I got her accustomed to the whelping box set up in the laundry room. Her eight black pups came right on schedule, born April 10. 2014 to their parents: Elsie Ann Lorraine Pheasant Greene and Kick’n Brass Heavy Metal Thunder. I guess it’s a tradition that breeders create long, colorful names for their dogs.
Overlooking our lake, Chris' friends Megan and Rachel, her daughter Sarah, me and Chris, my sons Ty and Nate, and my neighbors Holly and Maggy with our seven dogs on the wedding deck. (August 17, 2013)
Chris and I selected a black male from Elsie’s litter and named him Schmiddy, after my mom’s maiden name.
My son Nate and I took four month old Schmiddy to duck season’s opening day that year at Paradise Valley public hunting grounds near Sullivan. With the training he had completed, I thought he could have some success in the marsh. He even surprised me, with nine for nine on duck retrieves with some in deep cover. Nate remarked: “That dog was born to retrieve ducks!”
I am proud to state that I find that I still worry more about our six dogs (and of course, my family) than I do myself and I’ve been fighting a rare form of leukemia for the past four years.
Regarding my cancer, for all the great care I have received, I was going to thank by name, my Oncology Doc and all the wonderful nurses at Pro Health Care in Mukwonago. Then I thought, if suddenly, I were to pass on, I didn’t wish for them to possibly receive credit for that too! Recently, I have regained some strength, but I still need my wife to open the pickle jars!
My final thought: “All our dogs have made their way into my heart and their hair into our home!”