Sophie's Mother's Day

The pups mark their four-week-old birthday tomorrow and are walking and talking (very loudly, I might add), lapping goats' milk from a pan, exploring the new sights and textures of the puppy pen, and tumbling into and over each other.  Little puppy growls erupt periodically as they "play fight" and after some moments of excited activity they often end up in one big pile in a corner of the pen, fast asleep.  Occasionally, a little pup gallops and grimaces in his or her dreams.  What memories could they possibly have after four short weeks?  When picked up they are often affectionate, licking our hands and faces and cuddling into us or they cry--loudly and indignantly.  Like having a newborn baby we are often trying to sort out exactly what each puppy is trying to tell us.  After much delay, I finally screwed up my courage and tackled the hardest task to date which is to clip their tiny toenails - all 112 of them.  In fact, it went better than most of my attempts last year--with the aid of a bright light and a patient husband and (surprisingly) seven relatively calm babies, it was over quickly and bloodlessly.  As I check the puppies this evening, one stirs and looks at me, and gradually the others stretch and yawn. Clarence runs in to take a peek, and then runs out.  The pups need their bedding changed and look surprised when I put them on the slippery floor. Sophie enjoys her evening ice cream before heading off to bed.