June 2026
Susannah Charleson |
here are times I wish I was writing in the 18th or 19th centuries, when authors could open with “Gentle reader …” and ask for blessings, forbearance, indulgence or outright forgiveness for the words that would follow. It was a pretty good tactic, that “gentle reader” gig, humbling the author before the reader, and ideally setting the reader up to be charitable before the thing was ever read.
Gentle reader, I would write, right now, because to be honest, my head is in another place. As many of you know from my Facebook posts, we have another rescued dog in foster, and she is very much pregnant, so impossibly full of babies that her belly sways an inch above the floor when she walks, and in the light of lamps on in the evening, we can see the shadows thrown by the puppies, kicking furiously, indignant, it seems, and ready to experience the world at large.
Lucille is the little mama’s name. I call her Lucille Pickles, or Miss Pickles, because that’s her shape. I could also call her Miss Dirigible, because she’s that shape, too, with her low-hanging gondola. She is billed as a Jack Russell Terrier, and there may be some of that in her, but in her behavior, vocalizations, and structure I also see maybe dachshund, maybe basset hound back there somewhere. She is a funny, friendly, social dog, who enjoys her dog friends, has a playful feud with the cat, and loves every human she encounters, large or small. She came to us pre-adopted. A family in Dallas is waiting for her after the puppies are weaned. With them, she will have a sibling she has already met—a little three-legged Pomeranian.
Usually, the mamas we bring in are under quarantine, so all the whelping and puppy raising takes place in the guest house, just steps away from this one, but this little girl came to us from another foster—fully vetted and vaccinated. She had spent a month with them before coming here. She is so very social that I couldn’t see isolating her to the guest house, at least before the babies come. After she whelps, they may spend a week or two here, and then they will go over there. Her attention will be full with them, and we have a bigger, safer space for the puppies once they open their eyes and – hoo boy – get active.
We have had many a mama dog here across the past few years, some of them about to whelp, some just after whelping, some with babies a month old. It is a loving, tender, delightful, and terrifying time all at once. There are a lot of variables with any canine pregnancy, and even more so with the rescues, when we usually know little about exactly when the mating happened, the size of the sire, the whelping history of the female, etc. An ultrasound two weeks ago showed four puppies, but we were cautioned that there could be one or two a little less visible.
In addition to the rescue team, I send the family photos of her and updates, and we are all waiting, waiting. At this point, she is active, engaged, hungry. She has not had the appetite loss so many do. She is nesting a little, peering into corners a little, and she is sleeping in the whelping pen we made for her here. Best we can guess, she’s in about Day 62 of her pregnancy today. I think we’re going to see puppies by the end of the week.
Lucille has a vet appointment tomorrow and another ultrasound, a visit we hope can tell us if she looks likely to whelp normally or needs to be scheduled for a C-section. Normally calm about such things, this time, with this girl, I find myself with my heart in my throat. Too many vet trips across the past couple of months. Enough heartbreak to hold for a while, so … while I’m calm enough on the outside, I straight up admit to feeling anxious.
I wonder what all the dogs make of that. They can smell the chemical changes caused by cortisol, norepinephrine, and adrenalin, so it’s another dimension of information for them. The Tall One is Feeling a Little Stressed, they smell. Some offer comfort. Some hope I might be a softer touch with the treats. (I am.)
We’re hanging in there. Gentle reader, will you hang in there with us, sending prayers, good thoughts, and all positive energy for this sweet, abandoned little girl with a bellyful of puppies? We need you beside us. Lucille deserves all the goodness in the world.
With hope, love, and best wishes, thank you. ~Susannah
© Susannah Charleson, 2026
Did you know the first so-called dog “memoir” is credited to a woman of the 19th century? Beautiful Joe: The Autobiography of a Dog, by Canadian Margaret Marshall Saunders was published in 1893/4. An early campaigner for animal rights, Saunders was ahead of her time with this story–fiction told as memoir from the dog’s point of view. The book was enormously popular, but had its detractors. Writers that promoted animal intelligence and instinct were often labelled “nature fakers” by the wider animal-keeping community.
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