Our Pointer Puppy Diced with Death

The story so far …………. Molly, our English Pointer, after years of trying, gave birth by caesarian to three gorgeous little pups. We called them ‘Spot’ (for spot-the-dog – he was the only male), ‘Naughty Susan’ and ‘Cocoline’. Susan is the one with the black head and white body, Coco is the one with brown markings. The three little darlings played havoc with our lives until at eight weeks, our chimney sweep and the owner of the pups’ Dad, came to take Spot away. Spot was a super little chap, a favourite with our guests, and he won all our hearts here at Les Trois Chenes Bed and Breakfast. Our sweep is a real dog-lover and a hunter, so I am sure Spot went to a very good home. We also hope to see him at least once a year at chimney-sweeping time. To read the full story see Molly, An English Pointer Pup in France, and The Story of our Pointer Pups.

The girls had also found homes. Susan was to go to a hunter who lived just south of Paris. We had been relieved to find a home for her as time was moving on and, due to my underestimation of the beaurocracy around pups, and overestimation of the need to comply with it (being English and so keen to follow rules), I still did not have the pedigree papers and so could not sell the pups as pedigree pointers. I had to reduce the prices in view of this.See Part 1.

So I agreed to keep the pup for the hunter until he could get down from Paris to pick her up. I began to have second thoughts when he said he was going to come by train. My husband and I laughed nervously at the thought of Naughty Susan in a train for three hours bound for Paris.

Of course, life being what it is, no sooner had we promised Susan to the hunter than we were contacted by the most lovely couple who wanted BOTH the pups as pets. Ironically, they lived not far from the other buyer, but in the countryside out of Paris. I felt morally obliged to stand by my word, but had that kinda bad feeling about the way things were going ….

Three days before Susan was due to go to Paris, she started to ‘look peaky’. Of course, for a dog this means being less engergetic than usual. By evening she was not eating and, though still running around, it was not entirely with her usual vigour.

By next day she was decidedly quiet. Not eating, not dashing around, not being naughty at all. Something was definitely wrong. She was also looking very thin indeed. Now Susan had always been on the skinny side, but so full of vim and vigour that we never had much doubt that this was a problem. Wormed, fed on demand etc we reckoned that she was thin because she spent all day dashing around our large garden, digging up my plants, eating the spring bulbs, chasing the geese (a heinous crime in LTC), escaping despite our gates and fences – generally, causing mayhem. In addition, the pups seem to fill out like balloons after a feed, then slowly deflate into skin and bone until the next meal came along. So we didn’t really notice that she was really TOO thin for quite a while.

By mid-day she was so lethargic that we panicked and phoned the vet. She said to go in straight away, so we bundled the pup into the car and raced to the veterinarian clinic in Oradour-sur-Vayres, about twenty minutes away . As soon as the vet saw her, she set about giving her life-saving treatment; put Susan onto a drip, administered pills, potions and injections. (It seemed like that anyway. She took blood tests, checked both ends and gave her antibiotics). After much poking and prodding the diagnosis was that something largish was stuck in her intestines. The vet said that it was ‘near the end’ and we had to wait to see if it would ‘pass through’. Her guess was that it was something like a plastic toy. We had an appointment first thing the next day. ONE DAY BEFORE SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO GO TO PARIS.

By evening she was one sick dog. She had not eaten for 24 hours at least. She had stopped drinking. She didn’t move but just lay still on her bed.

Another sleepless night. Early in the morning, my husband went to the kitchen. I, being a mega-coward and super-pessimist, stayed in bed. If I didn’t have the sheets over my head, I felt like it. Wanted, ostrich-like, to block out the bad news. Imagine my relief when a smiling spouse announced that not only was she alive – but she was back to her naughty, if still too skinny, self!

And there, on her blanket, was one, perfect peach stone.

Delighted to have a live pup in the car, we took her, first thing to the vet, yet agian. Smiles all round. They obviously thought she was ‘a gonner’ as well. More injections, more pills. Of course, she vetoed the train trip to Paris, but left me to face the music and I had to tell the prospective owner not to buy a ticket and to postpone the collection. This is when things started to get difficult. Two pm, no answer on his mobile. 2.30 no answer on his mobile. Three pm no answer on his mobile. You get the idea? Eventually, early evening, he received the message and gave us a call. Of course, he thought that I was spinning a yarn. After much carry-on, and remember this is all in French, I managed to calm him down, give him the vet’s number and have a half-decent adult conversation. What else could I do? He wouldn’t have wanted to hand over cash at Limoges railway station for a puppy at death’s door, would he? Only then did it materialise that he had not only booked tickets for the train to Limoges, and return for the dog, but had also booked Susan on a flight for Algeria the next day. Perhaps the peach stone was susan’s saving grace!

During this rather heated phone call, I had suggested that it was just possible that the couple who were to take Coco might also deliver Susan, as they lived only twenty miles away from the hunter. So, with a rather heavy heart, I gave them a ring and put it to them that the pup they had wanted so much, could be delivered by them into the hands of another. Needless-to-say, they didn’t really like the idea. But they also saw this a rather Shakespearian twist of fate. (It has, indeed, just occurred to me that this is very much like a Shakespear plot!) If the hunter couldn’t or wouldn’t take Susan, then I was free to send her with her sister to be a countryside pet, like their Mum.

I would like to think so! A week or so later the delighted pairs were introduced and, I think it is fair to say that it was ‘love at first sight’ on both sides. We all had a wonderful week-end before the puppies were loaded into the car and taken away to their new home. Here are the latest photos of the not-so-little sweeties. I can’t wait to find out what they are called now and how they are getting on in life. Would be lovely to have a part iii, ‘What the Puppies did Next’, wouldn’t it?

Well here it is What Our Pointer Pups Did Next

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