by Anna Wilson
‘No, she doesn’t,’ I hissed.
Mum took one look at me and Molly and said, ‘I think it’s time you got some sleep, anyway, Molly. Go up to Summer’s room -I’ve put a fresh duvet cover on. We’ll see you in the morning.’
I sat with Nick while my beautiful pooch produced her seventh and final gorgeous baby. I was so tired my teeth were aching, but I would not have missed this for anything. Even the thought of what Molly had just said could not stop the Welling-Up feeling of love and proudness I felt for my beautiful Honey.
Nick went to tell everyone that the last puppy had been born. I think he knew that I wanted a Special Moment all alone with Honey and her new family. It was a Special Moment that went into the CATEGORY of Moments Never to be Forgotten.
I counted: one, two, three, four, five, six . . .
‘Seven little soft and squidgy puppies! No wonder you’re tired, Honey. Well done, girl,’ I whispered, as I bent down to stroke her head.
There were six golden ones and one black one, and all of them were nuzzled into Honey’s side. One of them was making little grunty noises, as if it was snoring. They were silky soft and the cutest teeny-tiny animals I had ever seen! I had not met Honey until she was about two weeks old, and by that time she had grown quite a bit, even though she had still had her eyes tight shut. Puppies cannot open their eyes straight away. They are actually born blind. It is a miracle to me that they know where their mum is and how to get any milk if they cannot see, but this is yet another thing that they can do just by Natural Instinct.
I was so busy cooing over the pups and whispering to them that I didn’t hear Mum and Frank come in.
‘Summer, I . . . er . . . think we ought to go to bed.’ It was Mum, speaking in urgent and hissing tones in my right ear.
‘No way, Mum!’ I protested. ‘I’ve waited nine weeks for this mo – ment . . . oh,’ I said, as I looked up at Mum and caught sight of something FREAKSoME in the kitchen.
April and Nick were staring deeply into each other’s eyes and looked as if they might have a full-on snogging contest right there and then.
‘Holy Shmoly!’ I said in a Molly-type way. ‘I’m outta here!’ said Frank. And so was I.
The next few days were probably the most hectic of my life.
At least Nick was there to help – when he wasn’t with April on the sofa, snogging and talking to her in an excruciatingly mortifiable Lovey-Dovey manner and generally being yeucksome.
Of course it was brilliant that my sister no longer looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and that Mum was no longer worried about how to Solve the Problem of April’s Love Life. However, it would have been better if April didn’t take up so much of Nick’s Attention Span, as the puppies were basically Running us all Ragged - in other words, we were exhaustified.
For the first ten days, all the puppies did was eat (or rather, suckle) and sleep. The only problem was that they needed more than what I would consider to be a normal amount of food. They didn’t just have a sensible number of meals a day, like two or three. Oh no. They
wanted their food about sixty million times a day. At least, that’s what it felt like.
Normally Honey would have done all of the feeding and not needed a helping hand, as Nature told her what to do. But unfortunately there was a tiny problem with Puppy Number Seven, who quickly became known as Titch. Titch, as you can probably guess from his nickname, was a teeny-weeny thing. He was the Runt Of The Litter, which means that he was the smallest and the weakest. He was born last, and by the time he came out of Honey’s tummy, the other puppies had got stuck in and found a place on Honey to feed and get their milk supply. This meant that poor little Titch did not Get A Look In, which basically means he couldn’t get any food – in other words, he was in danger of starving.
‘This is a common problem, Summer,’ Nick had told me. He had tried to encourage Honey to take an interest in Titch, but she was having none of it.
By the next morning Mum had agreed with Nick that we should try to bottle-feed Titch.
Luckily Molly and I had been clever enough to Plan Ahead and buy some special puppy milk called ‘formula’, as it had been on the list that Frank had helped us with.
‘Can I have a go first?’ Molly had asked.
‘NO, me!’ I had cried. I was still a tiny bit annoyed with Molly for her comment about me and Frank being actual boyfriend and girlfriend, even though she had not mentioned it again since Titch had been born.
Mum had rubbed her eyes and said, ‘It’s not a game, you two. We have to do this sensibly. And Nick says it’s a real commitment, as the puppy has to be fed every two hours to start with.’
EVERY TWO HOURS!
‘And this includes through the night,’ Mum went on, rubbing her eyes again. ‘Nick’s going to get some more of that formula milk and some bottles, and then we’ll all have to take it in turns.’
So this is why we were all On Our Knees by Boxing Day, which does not mean that we went around everywhere crawling like babies.
It means that we were exhaustified from not having slept hardly at all.
We were all so whackeroonied that Mum, April, Nick and I all had to have huge afternoon snoozes. It must have looked very funny – Honey slumped in the whelping box with seven pups snuggled into her, all snoring away, and Mum, April, Nick and I dozing in the armchairs and sofa. If anyone had come round to visit, they would have thought they’d walked into Sleeping Beauty’s castle.
Except that there were no rose bushes covered in thorns, only a rather droopy-looking Christmas tree and the decorations Molly and I had done. We didn’t even have turkey to eat, as Mum did not have time to cook a big meal, what with bottle-feeding Titch and clearing up wet whelping-box paper and feeding Honey and generally keeping track of the pups. We ate turkey pizzas, which were quite gross, and I didn’t even open my presents until the end of the day.
When the puppies were about ten days old, things got a little easier for us as we didn’t have to feed Titch so frequently. Poor old Honey on the other hand found that life got quite a bit harder because the puppies got pretty active once their eyes started to open. Watching their eyes open was about the most amazing thing I have ever seen. It reminded me of those wildlife films when the camera has been speeded up so that, for example, a flower can be seen blossoming out of its bud in about ten seconds instead of ten weeks or however long it normally takes a flower to un-bud itself. The puppies were like little dog-buds to start with – all curled up on themselves with scrunched-up faces and tucked-in toes. But then they started to sort of straighten out and their eyelids kind of unglued themselves like two bits of sticky paper coming apart very slowly.
Up until this point the puppies didn’t seem to realize that we humans existed. We would go into the back room where the whelping box was and clatter around, clearing things up and feeding Honey and so on, and the puppies would keep on snoozing or feeding and would completely ignore us.
But on the tenth day I went in very early in the morning when it was still dark, and something AMAZING happened.
I went to turn on the light, and three of the puppies (including the black one) turned their heads towards me in a scrunchy, blinky wag, and then squeaked and scuttled to the corner of their box, all huddled together.
I had frightened them! I felt rather bad about that, but also quite OVER THE TOP OF THE MOON with excitement, because they had REACTED to me coming into the room! The little black one actually even made a funny little snarly sound! It was possibly supposed to be a scary growl to put me off going too close, but it just made me giggle and feel a bit teary. Those tiny puppies were growing at such a huge and vast rate of speed.
After that morning the puppies became more and more aware of their surroundings. And they started to be really quite funny.
‘These little guys are just the biggest time-wasters!’ Mum said to me one day, when we were still in our PJs at eleven o’clock in the morning.
‘What do you mean?�
�� I was sitting on the kitchen floor with all seven pups crawling all over my legs and falling over themselves and each other like little fluffy circus clowns.
‘Just look at us!’ Mum squealed, plonking herself down next to me. ‘All we do is play with the little monsters and cuddle them and swoon over them. I haven’t done any proper cooking for nearly two weeks, and the ironing pile is threatening to walk out and find a woman who actually knows how to plug in an iron and use it.’
Well, that would solve all our problems, I thought.
‘You know, it reminds me of when you and April were babies and all I wanted to do was just stare at you all day long,’ she said dreamily.
‘MUM!’ I wailed. ‘For the thousand millionth time, will you PLEASE stop comparing me and April to the puppies! It’s SOOOO embarrassing!’
Mum smiled at me. ‘I can’t help it,’ she said.
Just then one of the puppies (who was getting distinctly tubbier than his brothers and sisters, I noticed) stumbled into two sleeping pups and jumped back in alarm, yelping. It was so funny and cute!
‘Oh, Mum, look!’ I cried. ‘Little Tubster looks so shocked!’
Mum giggled. ‘Well, the poor love’s only just opened his eyes. He probably thought it was just him and the Milk Machine over there until he actually saw his siblings,’ she said.
Honey raised her head sleepily and gave Mum a quite dirty look.
Week Three brought a whole load more excitement – the puppies started to bark and wag their tails like proper grown-up dogs! Except that they were still all so mini, that it was like watching Molly’s Puppy Power game come alive! Loads of tiny yappy, waggy puppies crashing around and making SO MUCH NOISE! It was FABEROONY.
Molly and Frank were at our house practically every second of every day, of course. They had both got vastly interactive where the bottle-feeding was concerned, and Molly was showing particular attention to one little guy.
‘I am Stepping Up The Pressure at home,’ she announced one afternoon.
‘What?’ I said, a bit puzzled.
‘I am trying to be Persuasive and Persistent, just like you were, about having a puppy of my very own,’ Molly explained. ‘I have set out a list of Pros and Cons and I have made sure that the Pros are definitely winning against the Cons in an amazingly out-weighing manner.’
‘What sort of things are in the Pros list?’ I wanted to know.
Molly got her newest and shiniest notepad from out of her pink-and-purple flower bag. It was a Notebook of Beauty, I had to admit
- in other words, I wished I had one like it. It had a soft kind of leathery cover that was actually real golden fabric and it had orange-and-pink stitching on it in the pattern of a flower. It had a little kind of tube of material sewn into the back of the cover and this was where you kept a pen that matched the book. The pages were very light flimsy-type paper like you get in old important books like Bibles or dictionaries, and the edges were golden.
Even Frank said, ‘Wow – awesome notebook.’
Molly grudgingly muttered to me that Frank must be OK if he Appreciated her Taste In Stationery. She turned very carefully to a section that was marked with a golden ribbon and began to read.
‘But you like watching telly and doing Computer-Based Activities,’ I protested. ‘Your mum knows that, so she’s not going to fall for that, is she?’
Molly winked at me in a know-it-all fashion. ‘Aha! I have made a CONSCIOUS effort (in other words, a huge one) to stop playing Puppy Power so much since Honey had her babies, and I have made sure that Mum has noticed this fact. She has even already commented that it is good to see that I am Showing An Interest in something that does not Have A Screen. Also,’ Molly continued, ‘I have dropped lots of SUBTLE hints about how good for me it would be to have a dog to walk and train in the highly professional manner that you trained Honey. I have been very careful and not Nagging at all – you would be proud of me.’ she said.
I had to admit I was quite impressed with Molly’s crafty persuasiveness.
‘But what are the Cons?’ I asked. ‘Aha! This is the really clever bit,’ Molly said, and cleared her throat.
I frowned in bafflement.
‘Don’t you see?’ said Molly. ‘I have worded them all so that it says that / will be dealing with any potential problems. This is so that
Mum realizes that I am one hundred and ten per cent up for being a responsible dog-owner-type person like you, and she will in the end think this is good for me, and so she will sag yes.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, not particularly convinced. While I was glad that Molly was feeling so positive about her Masterly Plan . . .
. . . I, personally, was not.
Halfway through Week Two, the most treacherously tragic thing occurred: Molly, Frank and I had to go back to school.
‘It’s sooooo unfair!’ I wailed. ‘Just as the pups are getting really interesting and actually quite EDUCATIONAL, you are making me go and leave them for hours at a time to learn about useless things such as how to multiply by twelve and who invented the aeroplane!’
‘Look at it this way,’ Mum said. ‘You’ll i be able to spread the word about the puppies and ask your friends if there is, anyone who wants to have one.’
Molly crossed her arms and grumped and harrumphed. ‘Well good luck to them persuading their parents, is all I can say,’ she muttered.
Poor Molly had still not managed to Win Her Parents Round.
I went to say goodbye to Honey and the pups. Til miss you all so much today!’ I said, giving them all a hug before I had to get the bus. ‘Oh Titch, I’m going to be so sad when you’ve all gone to your new homes,’ I whispered, stroking little Titch’s baby-soft fur. ‘I can’t believe that your mum, Honey, was once as soft and tiny as you. Look at her now . . .’
On the bus on the way home I asked Molly and Frank how they thought I should Advertise for new owners. ‘Mum says people can come and look at them next week. I know she will start going on at me if I don’t have some interested customers,’ I said gloomily.
‘I think you should do an announcement like I did,’ Frank said. ‘Remember? “A Puppy is for Life, Not Just for Christmas.”’
‘Yes,’ said Molly, giving him one of her WITHERlNG looks, ‘but that announcement didn’t make sense then and it doesn’t make sense now. We have just HAD Christmas, so no one is going to get a puppy as a Christmas present, are they–?’
‘Girls . . .’ said Frank cuttingly. ‘You’re always so picky.’
‘Well, BOYS are always so–’
‘Guys, I think we’re Losing The Plot a bit,’ I said, gently interrupting in a DIPLOMATIC way, which means I didn’t shout or be rude – in other words, I was tactful and polite. ‘We are supposed to be planning how to advertise Honey’s pups.’
Molly sighed. ‘Maybe I don’t want to,’ she said.
‘Eh?’ Frank and I said together.
‘Listen, I am DESPERATE for one of Honey’s puppies, and I STILL haven’t persuaded Mum and Dad. What if we advertise the pups and everyone comes round in one go and there are none left by the morning? It would be a catastrophe of GARGANTUAN proportions,’ Molly said. Her eyes had gone a bit watery and I panicked in case they were actually going to start leaking. My poor Bestest Friend. I had not realized how desperate she was.
Frank and I stared gloomily at the floor of the bus. Then Frank suddenly leaped up and almost nearly banged his head on the bag rack. ‘I’ve had the most brilliant idea!’ he yelled.
‘Did it make your tiny brain hurt?’ Molly muttered.
Luckily I don’t think Frank heard her. ‘Listen to this: we will only advertise SIX of the seven puppies – that way there will definitely be one for you to keep! AND on top of that ultimately fantastic brainwave, I have had another one!’
‘Careful,’ said Molly.
Frank sat down with a bump and said, ‘Let’s make up a list of Dos and Don’ts for looking after the pups. Then people will know that they must be responsible
owners and they won’t just rush into asking for one. That will give you more time to work on your mum and dad, Molly.’
Molly raised her eyebrows, pulled the corners of her mouth down and nodded her head slowly. ‘Pretty impressive, Frank Gritter. For a boy.’
‘Hey, you two! Stop arguing! Anyway, it’s our stop – do you want to come to my place and see how the pups have been today?’
‘Does Popeye like spinach?’ shouted Molly, pushing Frank out of the way in her Haste and Impatience to get off the bus.
We ran to my house and I was in such a palaver of a tizz of excitement that I dropped my front-door keys about a million times.
‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Summer!’ Molly cried, and Launched herself at the doorbell. ‘Your mum’s here, remember?’
Mum looked a bit FRAZZLED when she answered the door. ‘Thank goodness you’re home!’ she said. ‘I’m going for a lie-down.’
Anyone would think MUM had given birth to seven puppies, I thought, but I didn’t Dwell on it, as I was too keen and desperate to see the little guys.
Molly, Frank and I grabbed some juice and crept into Honey’s den. Poor Honey was flat out on her side, snoring for England.
We sat down quietly and each took a puppy in our lap. Molly took Titch and stroked him gently.
‘You’ve done so well, little Titch!’ she said in a crooning voice. ‘Look at what a big boy you are now!’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘No more bottles for you from now on.’
Once the pups were three weeks old Nick said he would come round to show us how to wean them. We had to encourage them slowly and gently to stop taking all their food from Honey and to start eating some solid puppy food from the shops.
I told Molly and Frank this one night when they were round at mine and read to them what Monica Sitstill’s very good advice was about ‘How to Wean a Puppy’:
