~ An Angel For An Angel  ~ ~ Angel's Story ~ A short story written in honor of, and with love for, my friend, Nancy, as well as the Angel that inspired it all...

I know there are angels among us - among ALL of us - and I believe that with little or no thought at all, each of you would be able to conjure up memory of an angel with whom, perhaps, you have been acquainted, or of whom, perhaps, you have heard. This is the story of two angels...

Though born the day after Christmas, 1997, Angel's story begins in March, 1997, which is when Nancy Mullins of Concord, NH, and I became acquainted via her family's adoption of a young bi-black Ailea puppy ("R2"). One thing led to another, and Nancy and I were becoming good friends. A few months after R2 went home with Nancy she adopted another, older, Ailea puppy ("Duff") and by this time we were the best of friends. When Taylor came in season and was bred in late October, 1997, I realized her first due date was the day after Christmas. So I suggested - jokingly, at first - perhaps Nancy could come down over the Christmas holidays to be here when the puppies arrived. Having never witnessed a whelping and looking for a reason to visit again, to my very pleasant surprise, Nancy grabbed this idea and ran for it.

Reservations were made. She was flying in on Christmas night, returning home on New Year's Eve morning.

My pregnant bitch grew. And grew. My prayers for a 4- or 5-pup litter were disappearing before my eyes, as she continued to swell with growing puppies. It was time to pray she did not begin labor before I had to set out for the airport to get Nancy...

Christmas morning dawned bright and sunny. No signs of impending delivery from Taylor, so the day was a glorious and beautiful one. Time came to go to the airport, and still no untoward signs from mama-to-be that pups were on the way, so Nancy was brought home without incident. Friday after Christmas (12/26) dawned bright and clear, and Taylor's early morning temperature showed the bottoms-out drop we were looking for: Pups were on the way, timing was perfect!

An anxious Mama Taylor in labor, and an equally anxious midwife Mama Amy

Pre-labor began in the early afternoon, and by 6:00 p.m. I was planted on the floor with Taylor in the delivery room (a child's wading pool). Nancy, who worked as a photographer in the past, was at the ready with both her camera and my camera in hand to document the entire whelping procedure. I had never been in a position to have photographs taken while I was busy working with the bitch in labor. This was exciting, for finally, the meat of the work had begun! Puppies were coming!

Hard labor began and the first whelp was delivered at 7:55 p.m. We had a blue bitch! At 8:23 came a tri dog, at 9:05 a tri bitch, and right on her heels, at 9:16, a blue dog. Nancy was so excited and so in awe of the process, it was wonderful from my standpoint, to experience this so fresh and new. Pictures were being taken, rolls of film snapped up... Nancy was certainly capturing the moment!

Supplementing this tiny newborn baby with electrolytes and carbs, using an eye dropper

Having taken a short rest, the #5 pup - a blue dog - was delivered at 10 p.m. She was still obviously laboring with more whelps and at 10:32 #6 came, a small blue bitch without much strength or substance. Electrolytes were given. An hour passed. Hoping to help things along, a shot of oxytocin was given at 11:30 p.m. Midnight brought us pup #7, another blue dog. At 12:40 a.m. #8 came, another tri dog. We were all exhausted! Things grew quiet after #8. Taylor was lying comfortably, nursing the puppies. Patient work with the small #6 bitch to try to get her to suckle failed. More electrolytes were given via dropper. She was strong enough to take the contents of the dropper, but not strong enough to latch onto a nipple and nurse.

By 2:00 a.m., with no signs of more yet to come (eight is certainly enough, thank you!), I put Taylor in the tub and cleaned the birth mess off her bottom, carefully blowing her dry. Fresh papers, sheets and toweling were spread out in the wading pool, with heating pads underneath, turned on. Taylor and her litter of 8 babies were bedded down for the night with a sheet-covered x-pen surrounding the pool for security and privacy. The humans crawled in for some badly-needed sleep.

Saturday (12/27) dawned bright and sunny. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes at 7:30 I let the shelties - Taylor included - out to go potty.

While Taylor quickly did her outdoor business I stood at the x-pen to count warm, live puppy bodies, a process I go through every time I look at a new litter until they are about 3 weeks old. Didn't get far into the count though before I noticed a bit of "floss" hanging off the umbilical of one of the tri-color puppies. I reached in and scooped up the puppy to clip the string. Once the pup was in my hands the bit of floss no longer looked like floss... And on turning the pup over in my hands, I noticed a splash of white on the puppy's far hip. Hmmmm. We didn't have any body spots on any of the tricolors...

Nancy was up by then and standing, gazing down at the litter. "Nanc? Would you count the puppies in the pool for me please?" I called into the room. 'Surely not!' my brain was trying to say, 'there can't be another!'

Sure enough, though, Nancy bounced into the kitchen with her puppy count - "Yep, all eight of 'em are in there!" she repsorted, and then stopped dead in her tracks, because there I stood with another puppy in my hand.

Nancy and I looked at each other and both said, "NO!" But sure enough, at some point AFTER the humans had cashed it in for the night, Taylor had delivered her 9th and final puppy, another tricolor  bitch.

This made nursing interesting. The larger, more vigorous puppies were vying for the best spots at the bar (of which there were 4), and the remaining 5 puppies, two of them weak and small indeed, were left to scramble for the remaining spots. We were faced with a reality of only 6 relatively productive teats, and 9 puppies to nurse. We rotated the pups with Mama, concentrating on the smaller, weaker two, inviting them to grow strong enough to compete with the remainder of the litter.

All pups but one - the #6 blue bitch - caught on. By day 3 all but she were doing well, with the 2nd weaker pup - a blue boy - fast growing and gaining strength. Soon we were not so much concerned about his ability to nurse, and concentration was made to the littler bitch. If left alone with the litter, Mama Taylor would push this little bitch off to the side, a painful (to the humans) recognition that Taylor just could not do enough for them all. And though the little blue girl could nurse for short periods, and we allowed this to happen about every 3 or 4 hours round-the-clock, it was apparent she needed more. We began giving her a milk replacer - canned, condensed goat's milk - feeding every 3 or 4 hours in addition to nursing on mama, and this little bitch stayed with us.

Soon it would be time for Nancy to go home and my holiday to end, which meant I would be returning to work full-time. There was not much hope of my being able to sustain the weak puppy - I could not stay home from work, nor could I take her with me to work. The day before Nancy was due to depart, she looked at me and asked if she could take the failing blue bitch home with her, where she would be available full-time to offer the puppy round-the-clock feedings and, perhaps, save her life. So it was decided, with a good dose of levity in realizing the puppy may not survive regardless, that Nancy would carry this little girl home with her and continue the hourly battle to save her life. But only on the condition Nancy understood, the puppy had to be returned to the litter at 6 weeks of age, for my co-owner to take her pick.

It was agreed.

Thursday, New Year's Eve, dawned a bright, clear day, but it was cold! Nancy packed her things, including emergency supplies for the puppy. We were faced with a problem - however in the world would Nancy sneak the puppy aboard the plane, while keeping her warm and safe? Nancy, her eyes agleam with mischief, stated matter-of-factly she would simply carry the puppy like a papoose, tucked into her bra. Though she tried to rig protection for the inevitable squish of poop or warm trickle of urine by diapering the puppy with a mini sanitary napkin, the attempt failed miserably. Nancy wound up simply snuggling the puppy in her bra and shrugging her shoulders. "Guess there's nothing else to do!"

This left some hypotheticals: Could she take her on the plane without anyone's being suspicious, and if so, what would happen if the puppy was discovered mid-flight? We decided there was nothing we could do but try, so off we went.

I drove, while Nancy sat with the puppy snuggled in her bra. Once she was secure, the pup settled in for a nap. So far so good. We were about halfway to the airport when Nancy abruptly sat up straight in her seat and, pulling her clothing away from her body, said, "OH NO!"

"What?" I asked, alarmed.

"SHE POOPED!" Nancy responded in dismay.

I nearly had to pull the van off the highway to allow myself time to recover, I was laughing so hard. The one thing the mini pad was supposed to help with, and which we decided just couldn't happen, had happened before we had even gotten to the airport.

Once there, I took the puppy and snuggled her in the front pocket of my sweatshirt, holding her carefully in one hand to help keep her warm. This freed Nancy to enter the lady's room to repair the damage done. We proceeded to the check-in counter and to the loading gate. We approached the x-ray machine and metal detectors with some trepidation. What if they wouldn't allow me through with the puppy in my hand?

Keeping the puppy hidden in my pocket, I walked through the metal detector. The buzzer sounded. I reached into my hip pocket and took out my keys, went through again. The buzzer sounded again. I removed my change and tried again. Still the buzzer sounded (and I'm inwardly groaning). The lady standing there just smiled and indicated I should just allow her to use the hand wand, which would pinpoint the location of whatever object was sounding the alarm. By this time, too, she had noticed my left hand was staying in the front pocket of my shirt, obviously holding something. Finally, I looked at her and said, "You want to see what's in my pocket, don't you? 

She responded: "I most certainly do."

"If I tell you what it is do you still have to see it?"

"What is it?" she asked.

"A puppy. You need to see it to be sure, don't you?"

"Oh, if it's a puppy, I sure DO want to see it!"

So I carefully removed my hand from my pocket with the pup tucked inside. The lady melted. "Oh, it really IS a puppy! And look how small! But why is it traveling while so young?"

So a condensed version of the story was given, and the lady promised our secret was safe with her. One hurdle accomplished.

We gathered up our things and proceeded to the departure gate. We backed ourselves against an inside wall, away from the hustle of the concourse, and Nancy took the puppy again and settled her back into her bra. She asked, "What shall we call her? She has to have a name!"

Immediately, a name sprang to my mind... "How about 'Angel'?"

Nancy agreed it was a great name, but wanted more. "What about her registered name? We have to make this all appropriate for the circumstances, her flying so young and all."

The brain thought another quick moment and then I said, "How about 'Ailea On A Wing and Prayer'?" 

"PERFECT!" Nancy agreed, and so Angel was named.

After our tearful farewells, Nancy walked away to board the plane, with a little girl called Angel tucked in close to her heart, and I stood and watched as the plane taxied down the runway, saying a silent and fervent prayer that the angel that had been sent for Angel would be able to work the required miracles.

Nancy did get home safely and without further incident (except maybe Angel peed on her once), and as the days progressed it became quite obvious this little girls' will to live was very strong. She was nursing vigorously on a baby bottle and seemed to be blooming on canned goat's milk. Finally, she began to gain some weight and grow - not much, but some. Little bit by little bit, Angel was beginning to look like a typical sheltie puppy, albeit a slow one for her age.

Angel flanked by her two "brothers" - R2 and Duff - at left, and the rest of the litter at right, all taken at about 4 weeks of age. Even here, it is easy to see how much smaller Angel is than her littermates. The differences were just amazing!

When Angel was a week old, she resembled her littermates when they were only 2 or 3 days old. Nancy sent me photos - Angel was so tiny! When she was 2 weeks old she still had not opened her eyes, but despite Nancy's concerns, near 3 weeks of age Angel's eyes finally popped open. Starting out she was about 2 weeks behind, and lost ground over her siblings until she was fully grown.

By the time Angel's eyes opened, we decided she was probably out of immediate danger, but concern for her development and things associated with being a "runt" and a tiny one needed assuaging. A trip to the vet's indicated all was well.

Lovely Miss Angel at about 4 months - a size comparable to a 10- or 12-week old!

The pups were soon to be 6 weeks old, and that meant time was approaching for Angel to be returned to the litter. Much thought and discussion went into this, as Nancy and her family had fallen hopelessly in love with the little girl and, while I don't recall the exact measurements, by the time the litter was 6 weeks old it was very apparent to us, based on her small size, Angel was not a girl the litter co-owner would be interested in considering.

"May we keep her?" Nancy finally asked.

What could I say? So when blue slips came back from the co-owner, all signed and ready to transfer, I mailed Angel's to Nancy and crammed as much love in the envelope as I possibly could.

Angel continued to grow and appears perfectly healthy. She is still quite the petite sheltie, although now measures about 14". She's the bitch in the Mullins' home, bossing her big brothers. Guess you could say Angel has wrapped her brothers, as well as her human family, right around her little paw, and is now ruler of the entire roost. I don't really hear anyone complaining very loudly about this fact though. Quite the contrary, the entire Mullins family is quite taken with her!

The photo above right, of two blue puppies, is probably the best graphic depiction of Angel's petite-ness. Angel is shown on the left, and Willie, another Ailea puppy, on the right. Willie appears, and is the size of, his whole 10 weeks of age in this photo while Angel, on the other hand, is only slightly larger than Willie and is pictured here at a whopping 6 months of age. Quite a comparison, yes? She never let her size get in the way, and though she remained small until she was fully grown, she did finally finish growing at about 14" in height, which is a nice, moderate size for a sheltie bitch. She retains that aura of "petite" about her though, to this day.

LOVELY Angel at 11 months

As far as I'm concerned, the story of Angel played out exactly as it was meant to. And my guess is, Nancy would have a hard time deciding which angel was sent to which angel, as the goodness shared between them has certainly balanced itself out over the months. She is a very pretty girl, and we are all very proud of her!

Yes, miracles happen.

Yes, there are angels among us.

And yes, there is a God.

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