Here, perhaps a graphic will help you understand what I mean.
|My poor Penny with 5 week old pups|
Look at her face. I know what she's thinking. She's thinking, "I have to raise these things until they're HOW OLD!? Lord, how do I get this fuzzball off my nipple? Help me..."
Keep in mind that as large breed dogs, these pups are absolutely huge. At five weeks old, these puppies are bigger than our year old cats or our mini-weenie. They're fat chunks of fur and they just hang from my poor Penny's nipples like a Pitbull hanging from a rope, jaws mercilessly clamped in place. They don't even try to support themselves. They could stand up, but they don't. They hang. When Penny runs, her belly hangs so low that the loose skin flops from side to side like heavy water balloons. This is why I never had my own children. I adopted.
As humans, we get tired. Not just moms, but as any living being, life can be exhausting. Penny's pups are very cute and she loves them, no doubt. Their daddy loves them too. But he is so big that he can inadvertently hurt them without meaning to. He has learned that human mommy will get very mad at him if he hurts a pup, so all interaction with papa dog is monitored. And certainly NEVER around food. Ever. Daddy doesn't care if you're a cute little puppy. He'll bite your head off for some kibble. My husband gets the same way when he's really cranky. Buddy's not a very good puppy babysitter either, even though he tries. One loving plop of his paw on a pup sends it crying like it's being stabbed to death. It's quite dramatic. And mama Penny could care less. She's tired.
|Buddy and daughter sweetie moment. Just starting to focus, this sweet little girl yelped|
and ran when she realized how big Buddy really was.
My pups are weaning. It's time. They're almost ready to go to new homes. I just have to post a few pics because I can't resist. Then this blog post is over because I have to go get my kids from the bus stop. How long do I have to raise those things? [Repeats chant - seven more years max - seven more years max]
I'm fairly certain that if our offspring weren't so darn cute sometimes, we would all eat our young. I know there have been times when I've considered going all Hannibal Lecter on my own children and eating their liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Thank God for parental restraint. I exercise that muscle almost daily.
My children both just made their respective cheerleading teams. Normally positive about such things, the first thing I thought was, "Crap. This is going to cost a lot of money. Money for outfits. Money for hair products. Money for snacks at every game. Money for gas to pick them up from every practice and game. Money, travel, money, transport, money, shuttle, money, clothes, money, food. Mama exhaustion."
But what came out of my mouth, like a good mother, was this: "Congratulations, honey, I'm so proud of you!"
I'm sure Penny is proud of her pups too. She just likes to go in the woods and hide behind a tree occasionally so they don't see her. I get that, Penny. I sooooo get that.