So Saturday was fun. Kyle had his surgery on Thursday. He was dead to the world on Thursday and Friday and was coming around on Saturday. Which meant the pain was coming around too. Fortunately his mom was on her way to help take care of The Patient.
It was during the time that we were first waking up, when I had first let Rosie and Oliver outside to "go potty" that I became distracted with pain pills and people breakfast. The next thing I knew, Rosie was under the shed in the backyard. "Nesting". And completely out of reach.
After we tried using a hot dog and two Milk Bone treats to lure her out, a borrowed can of tuna from the neighbor across the street did the trick. And I grabbed her and we ran inside.
The first puppy was in the middle of the studio floor before we even realized what was happening.
I shall decline to describe the meltdown that happened when Rosie ran away from the puppy instead of cleaning it up, or really acknowledging it at all. I had to ... bleh. Do a lot of gross things.
Fortunately Mila was already on the way, so she picked up where I left off. Which meant she had a LOT of work to do, as I was a basketcase. "But Rosie is supposed to do this! Why is she trying to get behind the sofa!?"
That was at 2:15. At 10 PM - nearly 8 hours later - the "birthing team" (which consisted of Mila and Amy and, briefly, my friend Amanda) had left and Rosie was left to tend her 8 new puppies.
Last night the runt died. She was soooo tiny. You could see her little rib cage.
So seven. Seven beagle puppies. Wow.