Puppy Pic. as promised

[Bernd]

The new members have arrived, but what a stressfull few days. First Guillie was in labour for two full days and then at 2 am Saturday morning she stopped pushing and we had to rush to the Vets to have him perform an emergency caesarean. As it turned out she had 5 puppies, but 3 were already dead. So we ended up with two healthy boys and an unhealthy bill of £ 691.
And if that wasn't enough, on return from the vets our old trusted washing machine leaked and we had a mini lake in the kitchen. Ah happy days or nights.
So this weekend I will leave the young ones in Susan's capable hands and will go on a little trip to the Emerald Isle to recharge the batteries. I have not been for a while and look forward to the drive from Dublin to Galway Bay. A route I know well. Add to that a cool pint of Guiness or two to help with my Birthday celebrations on Monday. Back on Tuesday. See you then.
Hope all are well.

Peace

[JohnMichael]

Bernd I am glad mother and at least two are doing well. That had to have been quite a long two days. Have a great time in Ireland. I should visit there myself and see if I could find any distant relatives. Have a Very Happy Birthday and may General Guiness show you a good time.

[bobsticks]

...it seems like just yesterday that our little Guille was just a pup herself and now she's a beeming mother. Undoubtedly she will come out of this trying experience with flying colours...as will you from the drenching. In the sunnyside-of-the-street, grass-is-greener, Chinese-fortune-cookie style of philosophy remember that the flooding could always be much worse. Have a few for your American brothers and enjoy.

Peace

[Auricauricle]

Congrats on the dual subwoofers!

(Ahem! Ba-boom!)

[ForeverAutumn]

I love your puppy pictures Bernd! Sorry about the three that didn't make it, but those two sure look healthy with nice shiny coats.

Happy Birthday!

[basite]

Congrats Bernd, they're looking really cute

hope they'll be fine

Congrats on the dual subwoofers!

(Ahem! Ba-boom!)

Keep them spinning,
Bert.

[Bernd]

Thanks for all the kind words and the birthday wishes. I am sure General Guiness will keep the wheels well oiled and I shall indeed lift one or two to toast my North American bretheren. Wish you were here and all that. It is indeed not so long ago and Guillie was just a pup herself. Man where does the time go. Bobsticks thanks for the link. I had no idea. Makes my little kitchen flood a drop in the ocean so to speak. I will put something together for audiobill.
And FA, how is the new house doing? Hope well.
And Basite - Good luck with the exams.
Friday can't come soon enough.

Peace

[GMichael]

Congrats on the two new lives being brought into your loving family. Congrats on mom making it through to give her love to the puppies.
Sorry that some didn't make it. It happens far too often (more than most realize) and it's always sad.
A bitter sweet story Bernd.

[Bernd]

Thanks Mike, and yes you are right it happens more than many realise. Where there is life there is death. Fortunatly we have never lost a whole litter. The odd puppy yes, but this last litter was the worst loss we had. Never had a still born puppy, never mind three. Had to make some phonecalls on Sunday and dissapoint some prospective future owners, who have been on our list for some time. I hate being the bearer of bad news. But that is nature. No guarantees here. I feel wiped out as I had hardly any sleep these last few days.
How is everything your end? Well I hope.

Peace

[GMichael]

We're still in a bit of a situation, but who isn't these days? Other than that, we are doing OK. Hope the sun shines bright for you today.

[Feanor]

The new members have arrived, but what a stressfull few days. First Guillie was in labour for two full days and then at 2 am Saturday morning she stopped pushing and we had to rush to the Vets to have him perform an emergency caesarean. As it turned out she had 5 puppies, but 3 were already dead. So we ended up with two healthy boys and an unhealthy bill of £ 691.
And if that wasn't enough, on return from the vets our old trusted washing machine leaked and we had a mini lake in the kitchen. Ah happy days or nights.
So this weekend I will leave the young ones in Susan's capable hands and will go on a little trip to the Emerald Isle to recharge the batteries. I have not been for a while and look forward to the drive from Dublin to Galway Bay. A route I know well. Add to that a cool pint of Guiness or two to help with my Birthday celebrations on Monday. Back on Tuesday. See you then.
Hope all are well.

Peace

Mom looks pretty tired there, but who can blame her? Sorry to here about the loss, (including the vet bill), but I'm sure you're thanking goodness for the survivors. Good luck to all.

Have a happy birthday and a Guiness for me.

[Bernd]

Thanks for the wishes Bill.Here is a picture update of the little critters. They are now 10 days old.
Also a little travel log of my Dublin to Galway adventure from which I returned late last night.

Leaving the ferry I head out onto the old and open east-west road. I have travelled this ancient route across Ireland many a times, especially during the second half of the 1980s.

Today, however, I learn just how much of it has been replaced by new motorway. No longer do I zip through Kinnegad, Enfield, Tyrellspass and a dozen other small towns and villages. All are bypassed. But I leave the motorway to have lunch in Athlone, one of my favourite points on the old road; the spot where the Shannon is crossed and east becomes west.

I walk up to the Genoa Cafe, but its front section has been changed into some kind of fast food parlour, and I decide to try elsewhere. Fifty meters up the main street is a sign saying 'Bistro upstairs'. I climb the old-fashioned carpeted staircase to the first floor - and step into the past. For on the landing it's still the 1960s, or maybe even the '50s: ancient decor, ancient old wooden and glass doors, frosted skylight windows, outmoded pastoral paintings. On through the doors into the Bistro itself, and the timewarp deepens. Everything - the look, the smell, the wallpaper, the tables, the placemats, the menu, the desperately naff Irish tune muzak - is from the middle of the last century, unchanged, unmodified, not redecorated since 1965 at the earliest. I remember places like this from my childhood, and I thought they were all gone.

But between sitting down and the food arriving the novelty wears off, as these things do, and I begin to feel about as out of sync and threadbare as the place, and I head back out into the street and the twenty-first century.

Back into the car and within a few minutes I notice, that the landscape west of the Shannon has a different soul. Less is changed from the deep past; prospects and views remain unchanged from centuries ago. And the motorway has hardly protruted into the West at all. The road is an ancient one, its old character still preserved. And I again start to see the soul of the West shining through the landscape. It's a sweet, old, familiar sight, partly like returning to a loved homeland, partly like being stoned without any drugs.

After Ballinasloe, and within 20 or 30 miles of the Atlantic, the quality of the light changes. It becomes somehow 'expectant', and a significance, sad and luminous at the same time, is on every line of trees that stands silhouetted on the ridges and low hills. An old atmosphere is here, still intact from the youth of Ireland, not yet dispelled by the modern age, and this renders everything different, makes alternate ways of seeing possible. And as I come closer to the coast there is a sense of finality, of rolling downhill towards the great end of all things; the sense that something magical, festive, convivial and dramatic waits there for me.

In the last miles the final wonders of the Burren mountains emerge above the horizon to crown the landscape; scarped, conical hills rising on the far side of not-yet-visible Galway Bay, looking huge and immediate, their dramatic faces all stark, visceral and rich with personality. And I notice that in the presence of the Atlantic wind and air, things grow and look different; lichen on a wall, bushes, trees. All is wilder, archaic.

And now the headwaters of Galway Bay itself can be seen. At last, I reach the open, unobstructed Bay for the first time, its whole twelve mile westward sweep coming visible, with the Burren hills wholly revealed, tumbling in great reckless slopes to the water. The physical power of stone and sea is overwhelming.

Here is the end of Europe and of all that constituted the known world before the discovery of America. Here is where the human domain gives way to the wild, here is the border between English speaking regions and the Gaeltacht, where Irish is the native tongue. Here is the border between the fertile and the wild, between the known and the unknown, between the tangible and the dreamtime.

Here also happens to be my favourite place in the whole world. I head out into the wild night of Galway, aiming for some old haunts, smiling as I go.

Peace

[Feanor]

Thanks for the wishes Bill.Here is a picture update of the little critters. They are now 10 days old.
Also a little travel log of my Dublin to Galway adventure from which I returned late last night.
....

And now the headwaters of Galway Bay itself can be seen. At last, I reach the open, unobstructed Bay for the first time, its whole twelve mile westward sweep coming visible, with the Burren hills wholly revealed, tumbling in great reckless slopes to the water. The physical power of stone and sea is overwhelming.

Here is the end of Europe and of all that constituted the known world before the discovery of America. Here is where the human domain gives way to the wild, here is the border between English speaking regions and the Gaeltacht, where Irish is the native tongue. Here is the border between the fertile and the wild, between the known and the unknown, between the tangible and the dreamtime.

Here also happens to be my favourite place in the whole world. I head out into the wild night of Galway, aiming for some old haunts, smiling as I go.

Peace

My, my, those little guys have really grown in that short time -- but that's the way with dogs.

Thank you for your charming account of your Irish travels and reminiscence. One thing for sure is that things change. For example, I was born and raised in Montreal but left in my early twenties for job in Toronto in 1969. To return today a few things are recognizable but most are not. Notably my old McGill University haunts have vanished: old, two or three story buildings are replace with 20-30 story glass, marble, and steel. But that's a minor change: the whole tenor of the city changed in the '70s with the resurgence of French culture and civic influence. I was born and raised in a dominant and privileged English milieu, (not that I personally was privileged), that veneered the inherent French character of the city and province. That veneer, which I took for granted in my youth, is now stripped away.

Almost all of the friends and family that I knew in Montreal 40 years ago moved away for one reason or another, and not a few are dead. There's a saying from somewherer, "you can never go home again": it's true.

[jrhymeammo]

Great pictures, Bernd.

As you know, it's almost impossible to birth all pups in C-Section, so dont feel too bad. Knowing you, I'm certain those 2 pups will enlighten loving families in a near future. Congrats,

Hiro

[bobsticks]

There's a saying from somewherer, "you can never go home again": it's true.

Ain't that the truth. You know, I have been positively apprehensive about going back to The Big Easy since Katrina. No doubt the seedy haunts of my forays into that den of iniquity are gone, swept away by the floods and the fabrications of the "new and improved".

Accordingly, I admire the passion with which you write about your trip to the ancients. Heady stuff, eh? It's been a long time since I've felt the anticipatory shudder of being part of something bigger than myself.

Cheers

[Xoote]

congrats their so cute