My Dog Tulip by Ackerley J.R

Author:Ackerley, J.R. [Ackerley, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dogs, Novel, Fiction, Modern Classics
ISBN: 978-1-59017-527-9
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2011-11-30T02:00:00+00:00

5. Fruits of Labor

Tulip was not a barren bitch. Three weeks after the events described I walked her over to Miss Canvey, who pronounced her pregnant. The tiny buds of her babes could already be felt in her womb. They were not Dusty’s only gift to her. A persistent vaginal discharge, slight but noticeable, of a whitish color, also developed. Another visit to Miss Canvey was made. The discharge was politely termed a “catarrh” due to an infection (recalling Dusty’s raffish appearance I was not greatly surprised); though not considered dangerous to health, it had to be cleared up in case it miscarried the litter. Pills were provided and treacherously conveyed into Tulip’s interior in pieces of meat. They did not work and were changed to bougies—hard, thin and pointed suppositories, two inches long, like half a short pencil—which I was told to insert into the vagina as far as my finger would go, so that they should not pop out again. Many a sorry struggle between Tulip and myself took place over these objects. Whenever she saw a bougie approaching she tucked her tail firmly between her legs and sought refuge on the bed, her back to the wall. From her piercing cries a few seconds later, anyone would have thought that I was doing her a mortal injury—and I began to wonder if I was. A third visit to Miss Canvey seemed advisable.

“Miss Canvey, I’m awfully sorry to bother you again, but where exactly is the vagina?”

“Forward and upwards,” said Miss Canvey briefly. “Downwards leads to the bladder.” A furrow appeared on her brow. “But I don’t think you can be reaching that,” she added.

The struggles were resumed, with a little more confidence on my side, though none on Tulip’s, but no bougies that I ever managed to insert stayed in for long. Flexible now but intact, they were discovered a minute or two later on carpet or bed, and attempts to reinsert them in their wobbly and slippery condition never succeeded though often made. Eventually my nerve failed me and I begged Miss Canvey to put them in for me, which she did with enviable dexterity.

Apart from this unforeseen complication, little change was required to be made in Tulip’s daily life. She was to be prevented from executing continuous rolls on the grass (which was not, in fact, a trick of hers), for the reason that a bitch’s womb hangs in two lobes, like a medieval purse, and half the litter forms in each. The act of rolling, therefore, might cause the two lobes to intertwine and throttle each other. [1] Later on, when she got heavier, she was not to be asked to climb high steps, such as the steps of buses. Sixty-three days was the normal period of gestation, and bitches were said to be clocklike in their punctuality. She was therefore due to whelp on May 16.

As soon as the fact of her pregnancy was established my course of action became clear. Hitherto, the

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