There was no denying it, Amber, was acting strange.

“I think she’s close!” I said, googling the tell-tale signs of a pregnant dog, about to give birth.

• Off her food? – Tick
• Unsettled? – Up and down like a yo-yo!
• Panting – Intermittently
• Nesting – Obsessively
• Clingy? – Like Velcro!

“But she’s still got five days to go!” objected Nathan, “It won’t happen just yet – surely?”

All the same, I slept downstairs on the sofa that night, just in case. All through the night, I kept a keen eye on Amber, curled up in the whelping box that we’d just managed to assemble in the nick of time. I don’t know who was more restless – Amber or I?

The next morning, just as I was about to go grocery shopping, at around 8:45am, I noticed a mucus-stained puddle on the lounge floor. Amber’s water’s had broken.

It just happened to be a Tuesday. My day off. Thank you Lord!

I went and collected our youngest from school – there was no way she could miss this! There are some lessons in life that simply can’t be learned at school.

As circumstance would have it, our two eldest daughters were also able to be present. It was five days earlier than expected – but it felt like the planets had aligned.

At 9:55am, the first puppy appeared, it’s tiny little mouth gaping open and shut, as it drew in its first few breaths in the outside world.

We’d seen YouTube videos of live births, and read up on every detail – from counting placentas, to cutting cords. We had all the equipment ready. The clamp. The surgical scissors. A pile of towels . A weighing scale. Even a heat lamp akin to those you see in a chicken coop! But up to now, it had all been theory. Now – this was it! Without any dress rehearsal, we suddenly had to rise to the occasion. There were no official Vetinary Surgeons present. Just us. My husband, our three daughters and me.

And of course, our star girl – Amber! This was her first time too. Nobody had briefed her on what to do. She hadn’t watched any videos. But instinctively, she knew. Licking, nudging, feeding – such a clever Mumma!

The first three pups came fairly quickly. And so we soon found our stride too. We all assumed different roles at different times. One of us clamping, another cutting the cord, one of us weighing, the other recording the details, such as gender, weight and time of delivery and assigning each pup a little colour-coded temporary collar. It was all hands on deck. It was mucky, raw, earthy. It was one of the most vivid and incredible experiences we’ve ever shared. Nothing can quite prepare you for the sight of that first pup in it’s sac – and for the sounds and the earthy smell of new life.

Fortunately, there was a gap of around 90 minutes between the birth of pups number three and four and so we were able to stop for a well-earned cuppa! I’m sure Amber needed a breather too!

And by four o’clock that afternoon – there were seven! Three girls and four boys, eyes and ears as yet unopen, rooting around like little moles – and squeaking!

We weren’t supposed to name them – (we mustn’t get too attached) – but of course, it felt clunky and impersonal, referring to them as a colour. So an off the cuff ‘nick-name’ was assigned as soon as each puppy was born. Steve, James, Rosette (Rosie for short), Holly, Leo, Sadie and Ralph.

We spent the evening happily helping them latch on, marveling at the seven little heads and tails suckling all in a row. By now, their fur had gone from newborn-slime to buffed velvet!

Amber seemed relaxed and settled – sleeping softly while her babies suckled.

We positioned a single mattress next to the whelping box and took turns on nightly puppy-patrol. It was 10th December. Instead of a Christmas Tree, we had a box full of puppies to marvel at. We sensed that we were in for an unusual Christmas.

And little did we know that the fun had only just begun!

(Hope you enjoyed this post! Look out for the next instalment, coming very soon!)