Aren’t they cute?

They look helpless don’t they? They can’t see, they can’t hear. Their chief job is to eat and drink. Oh – and complain about the accommodations. You heard me. Complainers all of them! Ironic isn’t it that they can’t hear me, but they sure let us know they are there.

The puppy book you get with your whelp kit says that the whelp box should be kept anywhere between 75-90 degrees. If you are having a winter litter you get a heat lamp and heating pad for the transfer box to make sure that you can keep the litter toasty warm. This is all well and good but we have hot dogs. Not the Oscar Meyer type, the type that howls and complains until you adjust the temperature to 77 degrees.

Right now Mama Bean pretty much attends to the pups every need, so my job is to attend to her. Unfortunately she is a hot dog too. So while I am trying to keep the puppies warm snuggled with her, she is trying to keep cool. It is a vicious circle really. We have part of the whelp box covered where the puppies can pile if they like. The puppies will pile when they are cold, and will spread out a howl and complain when they are hot. We have a space heater and thankfully Dave installed a ceiling fan to help with the temperature, but last night it just wasn’t enough.

About 3:13 am Monday night the light pink puppy began howling. Not the cute little chortles that they have, but more like – as a friend so appropriately coined it – murdered puppies. As I mentioned this was no ordinary complaining, so I padded up to the puppy nursery to find everyone sleeping except for light pink. She was howling her fool head off. I snatched her up – nothing seemed to be wrong. A quick glance at the temperature – 81 degrees.

I walked her, put her down, moved her, put her with the other pups, moved her away from the other pups – nothing was working. Unable to console her, and pretty much out of any other ideas, I took her into the front hall and laid her down on the tile floor. She stretched her little paws out to get as much of her tummy on the floor as possible. Then – the sweet sound of silence. Since we were all up anyway, I decided to let Sabina run out for a quick hurry. Light pink and I sat in the cool breeze coming from the back door. She stretched all the way out and rolled over on her back, and gave me a big sigh. Bingo!

It suddenly occurred to me that every time the natives were restless it was either above and one time, below 77 degrees. Really? I decided to test it over the next couple days and sure enough they like it a balmy 77 degrees. To be fair they were pretty amenable between 76 and 78, but outside of those parameters, and the complaint cards start rolling in. Never fear the proprietors of this fine establishment have heard your complaints and will take the appropriate action.

Snuggling, sleeping, quiet puppies.

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