On November 7, 2017, Joe came into the kitchen where I was cooking supper. He said, "I have some bad news and I have some good news."
I said, "tell me the bad news first so I can end on the good news."
"The bad news is we have puppies."
What, how did that happen? When we got our dog six years ago we were told she was spayed. Guess that either was true or the spay was botched.
"The good news," he said is, "we have puppies."
We had three puppies. One was found dead, one was struggling, and one seemed to be doing okay.
At about 9:30 p.m. our dog, Chloe, kicked the struggling puppy out of the kennel. Joe brought it to me and I started trying to bottle feed it. Just so you know, I am a cat person and the only thing I had to feed this newborn puppy was newborn kitten formula.
I kept the puppy alive through the night using an eyedropper to feed it because it couldn't suck on the newborn kitten bottles.
At about 4 a.m. Joe came and told me to get some rest and he would take over. During his watch he searched the internet to see how to care for a newborn puppy. An article he read said to put the puppy back with its mother after feeding. So, he put the puppy back in with Chloe, but she kept kicking it out of the kennel.
Needless to say, the puppy did not survive. It was only about 1/5 the size of the other puppy that was doing okay with Chloe.
Today, the only surviving puppy is doing well. Its eyes are open, it has started to walk instead of scoot, and it has barked a few times.