She was huge for a Pug, fawn, pink nosed, the most beautiful of the three, but she was born asleep, a dream too good to be woken from. We held her and shook her and rubbed her back, and if life could grow from love, then she was on fertile grounds. We each prayed in silence, neither wanting to stop trying, but she was already at the rainbow bridge, waiting for people she had never known.
We let Stan and Nelly sniff her; I think they knew they were saying goodbye.
Neither of us could face burying her yesterday, so she lay wrapped in cotton, a monument to all the times I would have giggled at her clumsiness; a reminder of the walks we would never take her on, and of little treats of cheese I would never be scalded for giving her. Each time I saw the package I would wonder what kind of dog she would have grown up to be; would she have been giddy and daft, playful and timid, an honour to her dad; or would she be like her mother, daring and energetic, and so very loyal?
Iíll never know her nuzzles, or her bark, never laugh at her awkward run as she learns from her parents; Iíll never see her eyes open for the first time and fill with wonder and curiosity.
I feel blessed by the two that lived, but I also feel the guilt when I see them snuggling up to their mother for warmth, knowing that one sleeps nearby cold and alone in her bed of wool.
I buried her today in the garden, underneath a lavender bush. I couldnít bear to pack the dirt down hard, or even to say goodbye; instead I did one last thing for her, I gave her a name. Zena.
Bye-bye baby, sleep tight.
Nelly gave birth to three pups a week early in the early hours of 30th May. We were completely unprepared as we were told to expect them this weekend coming, making them almost a week earlier than we planned for. The first two, a fawn girl and a black boy are doing well but the third, another fawn girl, sadly never took her first breath.
Nelly is a first time mother but she is doing so well. Sheís gone from being a little terror, always running about and climbing everywhere (we have a cat as well as the two pugs and Nelly seems to think sheís part cat, Iíve seen her jump from the floor onto the windowsill just like the cat does), to being a loving first time mother.
Stan, the father, is so spellbound by them, heís dying to play.
Iíve unofficially named them Danco for the boy, and Joan for the girl (a daft name for a dog, I know, but itís a homage to my aunty who died this year, she loved dogs more than people) and we planned to sell the pups, though I can tell with how Emma is acting that this might never happen, she loves them as much as I do.