So. On Friday, we got a new foster dog. Her name is Jules, (but Hopper insists on calling her Ruby). She, uh, comes with "gifts."
Specifically, as it turns out, (I learned at the vet's office this afternoon after x-rays), 8-10 "gifts." This, incidentally, was exactly the same look *I* had when they told me this.
Jesus, that's a lot of puppies.
She was a stray and pretty neglected--her spine and hip bones jut out, so you can tell that even though it looks like she swallowed a melon whole, it's all puppy in there.
This makes me sad, and angry, and mostly nervous because we've had a bit of a tough year.
But she's eating like crazy and resting and farting (loudly).
The boys are already discussing names for the babes. Hopper is going with "Ruby, Jr." and "Ruby Jr, Junior." Rowan is suggesting "Eepie" and "Cutie." I'm going with not letting the boys name the pups.
We're literally due any day now.