I forgot to celebrate Tikva's birthday, but not her Gotcha Day, which was totally unreal. First being told "Come and get your puppy now" with the unspoken "or else". Bringing her home and telephoning Ram and saying "Help - I have a 3-week-old tiny puppy and I need something to feed her" - and he sent someone with a tin of puppy replacement milk and some tiny bottles. Much too young and oh so tiny, but I had no choice and she not only survived but she thrived. The monkey and the giraffe were Pereg's, who had a number of those monkeys and frequently used to walk around with one or two in her mouth. And take some to bed! They are still here - sitting on top of the back of the couch - propped up against the wall just below Pereg's memorial picture. My little Tikva. My Hope.
Such a little thing! And look at her now, she's the joy of the neighborhood. Isn't it a great feeling to see them thrive after such a rough start? I'm still amazed at how well Punx is doing after her near death experiences last fall.
Toed, even though Tikva was much too young, she probably had a better start with me than she would have done if the people had kept her any longer. As it is, from what I heard the other puppies just disappeared, as nobody else was interested in them. Had I been younger and not so disabled, I would have taken one of the other pups, but I just could not have managed. I had hand-reared pups from birth in the past so knew what I was doing, but I was a lot younger then, and it was a lot easier having to give a bottle every hour or so, day and night. And once Tikva got more steady on her little legs and started exploring, I was always terrified that I would run over her with my chair, or not see her when I was trying to move around on my crutches.
