This morning at eight, Michael left the yard to collect his chai/breakfast over at the Guest House. At first Princess
He's gotta be here, he's gotta be here! He was here a minute ago!
...where AAAAARE you?
Yoohoo, Michael, I can see you!
MICHAEL!! Where have you been? Don't you know I am needy?
Then she did exactly what blogger friend, Sandra said their dog did way back in 1972: Princess refused to go into her maternity ward. No matter how we try to coax her in with kibbles and meaty bones. At one stage I even sat down inside the hut and called her. She just dug her paws in and refused point blank to enter the maternity ward. Instead a few minutes later Michael called me to see that she'd dug a deep hole under our water tank, and was wedged in underneath. I left her there for a couple of hours, then Michael and I gently pulled her out and he pushed several large rocks into the openings. No problem to our hormonely-challenged pooch: she dug a hole against the wall of the house and lay there panting.
This evening just before dark, Michael and I carried her hammock-style in a blanket, quickly placed her inside the maternity ward and just as quickly shut the door. When Zechariah arrived at 6.30 for the night shift, Michael asked him to sit at the door of the hut and to call me (Bibi) should Princess show signs of labour.
Moto and Zechariah on guard outside Princess' hut
Zechariah has promised to call me if anything begins to happen tonight!
As my friend, Gattina says, we should be guessing how many babies she'll have. I agree (and hope wholeheartedly) that Princess produces four pups!
Now I'm going to try and do my birding post for tomorrow.