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This was the last litter of puppies we were going to allow
our Cocker Spaniel to have. It had been a very long night
for me. Precious, our only black cocker, was having a very
difficult time with the delivery of her puppies.
I laid on
the floor beside her large four-foot square cage, watching
her every movement. Watching and waiting just in case we had
to rush her to the veterinarian.
After six
hours the puppies started to appear. The first born was a
black and white party dog. The second and third puppies were
tan and brown in color. The fourth and fifth were also
spotted black and white.
"One, two,
three, four, five," I counted to myself as I walked down the
hallway to wake up Judy and tell her that everything was
fine. As we walked back down the hallway and into the spare
bedroom, I noticed a sixth puppy had been born and was now
lying all by itself over to the side of the cage. I picked
up the small puppy and laid it on top of the large pile of
puppies, which were whining and trying nurse on the mother.
Instantly Precious pushed the small puppy away from rest of
the group and refused to recognize it as a member of her
family.
"Something's wrong," said Judy.
I reached
over and picked up the puppy. My heart sank inside my chest
when I saw the little puppy had a cleft lip and palate and
could not close its little mouth. We had gone through this
once before last year with another one of our cockers. That
experience like to have killed me when the puppy died and I
had to bury it. If there was any way to save this animal I
was going to give it my best shot.
All the
puppies born that night, with the exception of the one small
pup, were very valuable because of their unusual coloring.
Most would bring between five to seven hundred dollars each.
The next day I took the puppy to the vet. I was told nothing
could be done unless we were willing to spend about a
thousand dollars to try and correct the defect. He told us
that the puppy would die mainly because it could not suckle.
After
returning home Judy and I decided that we could not afford
to spend that kind of money without getting some type of
assurances from the vet that the puppy had a chance to live.
However, that did not stop me from purchasing a syringe and
feeding the puppy by hand, which I did every day and night,
every two hours, for more than ten days.
The fifth
week I placed an ad in the newspaper, and within a week we
had taken deposits on all of the pups, except the one with
the deformity. The little guy had learned to eat on his own
as long as it was soft canned food.
Late that
afternoon, I had gone to the store to pick up a few
groceries. Upon returning I happened to see the old retired
school teacher, who lived across the street from us, waving
at me. She had read in the paper that we had puppies for
sale and was wondering if she might buy one from us for her
grandson. I told her all the puppies had been sold, but I
would keep my eyes open for anyone else who might have a
cocker spaniel for sale. I also mentioned we never kept a
deposit should someone change their mind, and if so I would
let her know. Within days all but one of the puppies had
been picked up by their new owners. This left me with one
brown and tan cocker as well as the smaller puppy with the
cleft lip and palate.
Two days
passed without me hearing anything from the gentleman, who
had placed a deposit on the tan and brown pup. So I
telephoned the school teacher and told her I had one puppy
left and that she was welcome to come and look at it. She
advised me that she was going to pick up her grandson and
would come over at about eight o'clock that evening. Judy
and I were eating supper when we heard a knock on the front
door. When I opened the door, the man, who had placed a $100
deposit on the dog, was standing there. We walked inside
where I filled out the paperwork, he paid me the balance of
the money, and I handed him the puppy.
Judy and I
did not know what to do or say if the teacher showed up with
her grandson. Sure enough at exactly eight o'clock the
doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there was the school
teacher with her grandson standing behind her. I explained
to her the man had come for the puppy just an hour before,
and there were no puppies left.
"I'm
sorry, Jeffery. They sold all the puppies," she told her
grandson.
Just at
that moment, the small puppy left in the bedroom began to
yelp.
"My puppy!
My puppy!" yelled the little boy as he ran out from behind
his grandmother.
I just
about fell over when I saw that the small child also had a
cleft lip and palate. The boy ran past me as fast as he
could, down the hallway to where the puppy was still
yelping.
When the
three of us made it to the bedroom, the small boy was
holding the puppy in his arm. He looked up at his
grandmother and said, "Look Grandma. They sold all the
puppies except the pretty one, and he looks just like me.
Well, old
Grandma wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes that day.
Judy and I stood there, not knowing what to do.
"Is this
puppy for sale?" asked the school teacher.
"My
grandma told me these kinds of puppies are real expensive
and that I have to take real good care of it," said the
little boy, who was now hugging the puppy.
"Yes,
ma'am. This puppy is for sale."
The lady
opened her purse, and I could see several one-hundred dollar
bills sticking out of her wallet. I reached over and pushed
her hand back down into her purse so that she would not pull
her wallet out.
"How much
do you think this puppy is worth?" I asked the boy.
"About a
dollar?" He replied.
"No. This
puppy is very, very expensive." "More than a dollar?" I told
him.
"I'm
afraid so." Said his grandmother.
The boy
stood there pressing the small puppy against his cheek.
"We could
not possibly take less than two dollars for this puppy,"
Judy said, squeezing my hand. "Like you said, "It's the
pretty one." She continued.
The school
teacher took out two dollars and handed it to the young boy.
"It's your dog now, Jeffery. You pay the man."
I think it
must be a wonderful feeling for any young person to look at
himself in the mirror and see nothing, except "The pretty
one."
?© 2003
Roger Dean Kiser
Stories
from The Life and Times of Roger Dean Kiser
? www.rogerdeankiser.com? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
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May you be blessed today.
Bob Johnston
Editor / Publisher |
