15/08/2026
Having a litter of puppies is hard.
It’s not easy money. It’s not even an easy task. It’s nurturing baby animals and providing them with the love, care and experiences they require to be able to go on to their new families. It’s making them a part of your family for the first 8 weeks of their life and watching them grow.
I love the hustle and bustle that comes with having puppies. I love seeing them go to their new homes and beyond that, knowing that I gave them the best start in life that I could.
I don’t breed often, usually once every couple of years. This year I chose to have two litters, from two different mums, at a similar time. Something I’ve not done before and won’t do ever again.
Willow had her second litter seven weeks ago now and aside from her labour stopping and the vets needing to restart it, the rest went without a hitch.
Pippa’s birth was different.
She’s only a slight girl but then so is Seven. They are evenly matched, which should mean that the puppies also won’t be too big for her.
I’m always careful with my girls and their pairings. I ensure all the relevant health tests are done and I have everything that I need.
I don’t breed professionally, I breed because I love it.
The first stage of labour was long for Pippa so when the second stage started I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost.
Three hours later we were sourcing oxytocin just to help give her that extra push she needed to get those pups out. The first pup was big…but we were over the worst, or so I thought.
The second pup was born without a hitch.
Then we got to the third. She decided she was coming out feet first, breach. The worst way possible. I knew she was big, she was taking her time to get through the birth canal. I’ve dealt with breach puppies before, I’ve got this.
But then I didn’t have this at all. This little girl was stuck. Stuck fast by her head at Pippa’s hips. This was bad enough, but she had also burst her sack with her back feet. I knew I had seconds to react, a minute at most. I had been supporting her to get where she was, helping to pull with each contraction, but now there was more urgency. I couldn’t release her head from Pippa’s hips, I just couldn’t wiggle her free. By the time I did, it was too late. I couldn’t save her, even though I tried.
Minutes later I saw them. The back feet of the last puppy. The same battle all over again, just after I had fought, and lost, the first. This time it took even longer, I’d managed to get a second shot of Oxytocin into Pippa hoping that strengthening her contractions would give me the help I needed from the other side. It wasn’t enough. I lost that battle too.
Today I lost two beautiful girls, not because I’m a bad dog mum, not because I didn’t know what to do, but because sometimes breeding is hard. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way we hope it will, and for that I truly am sorry.
I’m not sure I’ll ever have another litter after this, because this is going to take me some time to come to terms with.
Sleep tight baby girls.
