When George was a mama

The first time I met our chi-weenie, George Eliot, she came into the clinic for a prenatal check up. She waddled out of the cat crate and wagged her tail. I fell in love immediately.

Waiting on the x-ray table, ready to love you.

She was close to term and so were taking x-rays to estimate the number of fetuses. This can be a tricky business with the small critters layered on top of each other. One counts the number of spines and skulls.  The consensus was 4-5.

Georgie was living in foster at that time, rescued from a Milwaukee shelter after she got knocked up. She seemed pretty young, one or two. And she loved every one.

Her foster mom, Julie (the same one who took care of Tiny Dog), helped with the delivery of five healthy red-headed babies, one which needed a little extra gentle tug from the birth canal.  They looked just like her—fawnish-strawberry blond, short legs, pointy ears, and all tails always wagging. They even potty trained themselves on a piddle pad, so much smarter said her foster mom than the Italian greyhound babies who never seemed to get it together, and spent a lot of time stepping in poop and spreading it all over.

 

Always moving, the quintet of tiny.

G weaned her babies at three weeks. Sharp teeth! I waited until six weeks to go see her, knowing my heart was soft and it also wouldn’t take much to convince Sue we should take her home.

We went over there to just visit G, named Sunny then because of joyous constitution. Well, Sunny flopped over, big nipples and all, and pretty much insisted we pet her belly.  (This behavior continues today.)

Slim, post-natal. It didn't take much to say yes.

The pups went out into the world soon after that. It didn’t take long to find them good homes. I believe one lives close to us and does agility, fast and low to the ground.

Georgie has been a light to our days. When Sue’s sweet Rottie-X Taiko died, G decided she needed to keep an eye on Sue and went out on the cabin trail with her, minding the chainsaw, but sticking close, a little amber shadow, ready for kisses and belly rubs.  We are so lucky. Chihuahua number two ambushing us with affection.