... happened today.
People who are squeamish about animals or sex or a combination of both should stop reading at this point. You have been warned.
Phoebe (and thereby) Mojo have been in heat since the past two weeks. Prior to this, we used to put one of them in the crate on a rotating schedule so as to avoid accidents. Actually, that's quite unnecessary, because Phoebe is quite invincible... if I ever have a daughter, I want her to be strong and capable of defending herself like my bitch here ;-) In fact, we had to (you know, er...) help them conceive just a few months back.
These past couple of weeks, however, we have managed to keep them apart by just yelling at Mojo and threatening him. Also, it helped that Phoebe bared her teeth at him and also bit him at times. Yeah, we're twisted like that... we find that better compared to having to put them in the crate and get them out every hour or so.
Anyhoo. We're grateful that they sleep through the night without us having to sleep with them in separate rooms like we did before. This morning, as has been the routine for the past 3-4 days, we woke up to the cacophony that ensues when Mojo tries to screw Phoebe. (Squeamish folks, I told you so!) By the time I could go grab Mojo and push him out of the room or onto his bean bag, he'd mounted (I can't believe I'm using that word... the last time I used it, it was as a Linux / UNIX command) Phoebe. We thought of pulling him off but couldn't risk separating him from his (er...) little Mojo. Talk about making split-second decisions!
So it happened that for the next 20 minutes or so, we sat in bed contemplating the consequences of the recent events, while they gradually moved all over the room stuck at the base. Literally. Thankfully, after the first few seconds, there aren't any pelvic thrusts involved in this graphic sequence. (Any prudes reading so far? You've shown exceptional courage. Now go away.) At some point, Phoebe got tired of standing and decided that she wanted to sit in the bean bag. So she did. Mojo realized that he had no option but to accommodate her if he wanted to continue having his way with her. He was done a few minutes later, and I hurried to wash the bean bag clean. Talk about parenting.
The rest of the morning passed by peacefully, with Mojo banished to the crate, and without us bringing up the topic that we ruminated over individually. After the hubs went to work, I called up the vet, gave him the details of the events that transpired, and asked whether there was a chance that Phoebe would conceive. He said that it's rare that it happens this late in the heat cycle, but it's possible. The only way to know would be to check the Progesterone levels in her blood. That would give us a 90% accurate reading. He asked whether we wanted them to have puppies or not. I said no. (I actually meant "Oh God, no!") He said that there were contraceptive pills available but they didn't really work. He'd seen a few cases where the dogs still conceived. He suggested that we either operate her now to remove her ovaries or go in for an abortion a month later. The former is not an option now (the hubs wasn't keen on it when I asked soon after the puppies were born) and the latter is never an option. It saddens me to even write about it.
So now, we begin the anxious 4-to-6-week long wait to know whether we're gonna be grandparents again before the year is out. We're not keen on it, but if it does happen, we'll make arrangements for the pups to be cared for and taken away sooner. Wish us luck, folks, and pray that we don't need it!
PS: I've written things in this post that I never thought would escape my (er...) fingers.
PPS: Whatever happens, we still love our Mojo and Phoebe to death. They're the best. And they make the cutest couple. Folks at the pet resort attest to that in writing :P
People who are squeamish about animals or sex or a combination of both should stop reading at this point. You have been warned.
Phoebe (and thereby) Mojo have been in heat since the past two weeks. Prior to this, we used to put one of them in the crate on a rotating schedule so as to avoid accidents. Actually, that's quite unnecessary, because Phoebe is quite invincible... if I ever have a daughter, I want her to be strong and capable of defending herself like my bitch here ;-) In fact, we had to (you know, er...) help them conceive just a few months back.
These past couple of weeks, however, we have managed to keep them apart by just yelling at Mojo and threatening him. Also, it helped that Phoebe bared her teeth at him and also bit him at times. Yeah, we're twisted like that... we find that better compared to having to put them in the crate and get them out every hour or so.
Anyhoo. We're grateful that they sleep through the night without us having to sleep with them in separate rooms like we did before. This morning, as has been the routine for the past 3-4 days, we woke up to the cacophony that ensues when Mojo tries to screw Phoebe. (Squeamish folks, I told you so!) By the time I could go grab Mojo and push him out of the room or onto his bean bag, he'd mounted (I can't believe I'm using that word... the last time I used it, it was as a Linux / UNIX command) Phoebe. We thought of pulling him off but couldn't risk separating him from his (er...) little Mojo. Talk about making split-second decisions!
So it happened that for the next 20 minutes or so, we sat in bed contemplating the consequences of the recent events, while they gradually moved all over the room stuck at the base. Literally. Thankfully, after the first few seconds, there aren't any pelvic thrusts involved in this graphic sequence. (Any prudes reading so far? You've shown exceptional courage. Now go away.) At some point, Phoebe got tired of standing and decided that she wanted to sit in the bean bag. So she did. Mojo realized that he had no option but to accommodate her if he wanted to continue having his way with her. He was done a few minutes later, and I hurried to wash the bean bag clean. Talk about parenting.
The rest of the morning passed by peacefully, with Mojo banished to the crate, and without us bringing up the topic that we ruminated over individually. After the hubs went to work, I called up the vet, gave him the details of the events that transpired, and asked whether there was a chance that Phoebe would conceive. He said that it's rare that it happens this late in the heat cycle, but it's possible. The only way to know would be to check the Progesterone levels in her blood. That would give us a 90% accurate reading. He asked whether we wanted them to have puppies or not. I said no. (I actually meant "Oh God, no!") He said that there were contraceptive pills available but they didn't really work. He'd seen a few cases where the dogs still conceived. He suggested that we either operate her now to remove her ovaries or go in for an abortion a month later. The former is not an option now (the hubs wasn't keen on it when I asked soon after the puppies were born) and the latter is never an option. It saddens me to even write about it.
So now, we begin the anxious 4-to-6-week long wait to know whether we're gonna be grandparents again before the year is out. We're not keen on it, but if it does happen, we'll make arrangements for the pups to be cared for and taken away sooner. Wish us luck, folks, and pray that we don't need it!
PS: I've written things in this post that I never thought would escape my (er...) fingers.
PPS: Whatever happens, we still love our Mojo and Phoebe to death. They're the best. And they make the cutest couple. Folks at the pet resort attest to that in writing :P
4 comments:
Oh Dear!!
Imagine going through all the bringing-up-babies again!
I think its best to let nature take care of it. We really shouldn't mess with pets the way we mess with humans! May God give you the strength and stamina to handle the load (if any :) )
But other than this, your post had me in splits!
Seriously, I'm still grinning :D
Hilarious post! Loved it! Good Luck!
aiyo rama! :|
The suspense begins. I remember how tired you were from our conversations during the pup care-taking season. I cant imagine an encore!
@Noor: Yeah, I was laughing hideously to myself while writing it :D
@Peeves: Merci beaucoup!
@G: "Aiyyo raama!" is exactly what I would have said if I were in touch with my paternal grandmother. That woman, however, would never even think of such words in this context. She wasn't even after 10 kids and a few miscarriages in between. In the meanwhile she also looked after cows and their newborns and numerous cats and dogs!
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