"All the pups found great homes. Of all the puppies, one went to Little Rock, Mississippi, Springdale Arkansas and the rest local. Sadly a week ago Millie dug out from the pen and was run over and killed. It was an awful day. Max has been howling for awhile now..."
With tears running down my face, and my heart aching, I read the message again in disbelief. Not Millie. Poor, sweet Millie, Wrangler's beloved Mom. She wasn't even 2 years old. The Shipps had gone to Louisiana to pick up Max in the fall of 2012, as a gift for their son, and a soul mate for Millie. They weren't expecting her to become pregnant so quickly, but were thrilled with her first litter, born 9 days before Christmas! If I remember right, of the 13 pups (I remembered this number because there were 13 children in my Mother's French Canadian family, too), one froze to death and another died when Millie accidentally rolled over on her. By the time we found out about the available puppies, there were 3 males left. We reserved a pup, sight unseen. (Later, the Shipps would text a picture of the parents and a couple of the pups. It didn't really matter. I was already in love with whichever pup they'd set aside!) When we finally met them for the first time, the three looked and acted alike! Even the Shipps couldn't tell them apart! Lauren selected Wrangler. The remaining brothers, now back in the garage, were in a penned area, which included a large, blanketed crate for sleeping together. Shannon had to turn away, as they jumped up on their short, wired fence & howled when Lauren carried Wrangler and put him into the car.
After driving 6 hours through intermittent rain and drizzle to get to De Kalb, we met Shannon and her Mom. The love she had for all the dogs was apparent in her face and conversation. We couldn't wait to "meet the parents," who only exceeded all our expectations! We spent some time outside with Wrangler's Mom, Millie, and Dad, Max. Max was a big guy, with a lighter yellow fur, and typical of a retriever, was happy to keep bringing me his ball to chase and catch. Millie's fur was a darker blond, but not the "Irish-Setter-red" our other two goldens were. Millie was exuberant, jumping up on the fence of the pen, greeting us with her tail wagging, non-stop, and loving any and all attention she received. I remember being surprised that she was doing so well only 6 weeks after giving birth to more than a dozen pups! She seemed refreshed, looked beautiful, and reminded me of all the wonderful reasons I wanted another golden retriever...
May you rest in peace, sweet Millie. You lived and died knowing how very loved you were, by each of your precious pups. And by the humans who adored you, and cared enough to bottle-feed your many puppies, so you wouldn't exhaust yourself. Thank you for the loving gift of our special Wrangler. We'll take good care of your beautiful boy. Your spirit will live on in him, and in our hearts...
