Four Virgins and a Nuptual: A Litteral Tale
by Leslie Lowes, Hjaltland Kennel
Shetland Isles, UK
Photo by E. Lowes
Like most Westie breeders who are passionate about our breed, I plan my litters carefully. Again, like many, I could probably recite the pedigrees of my trio of bitches in my sleep. But every litter makes unique demands and so deserves careful preparation. A Westie chosen as a companion dog can be a wonderful pet. But anyone who chooses to breed a Westie accepts triple responsibilities; to the bitch involved, to uphold standards for the breed, and to abide by sound breeding ethics. The puppies the breeder creates should be healthy and strong, but should also capable of taking high standards forward into Westies of a future generation.
My own contribution to the Westie world is modest. I have one, sometimes two, litters per year, improving my bloodline with each generation, through careful stud selection. I live in the Shetland Islands, far north of Scotland proper, so trips south involve 14-hour ferry crossings, just to reach our entry port of Aberdeen. The trip to the stud comes on top of that.
Before undertaking my first litter, I studied Westie breeding. Not just basics, like management of the brood bitch, and midwifery, but congenital problems like cleft palate. Also important are health problems within the breed. Some of these can surface, apparently at random, because of pre-existing genetic factors. On the Internet, I subscribe to Westie lists, to a breeders list, to a veterinary list and to a groomers list. Like a relay runner taking up the baton, I feel I have to make my best effort; to further the efforts of all those breeders who passed their legacy to me. I want the puppies I create to be healthy, and a credit to the West Highland White Terrier breed.
The calendar plays a very important role in my breeding programme. All of my bitches' expected seasons are charted ahead. Any contemplated mating is checked for possible contra-indications. Work commitments, holiday times, and family priorities all have an influence, from pregnancy, through whelping, weaning and toilet training period, right up to re-homing time. That is a four-month period at least, when bitch and puppies demand priority. Weather is also a crucial factor for us. The North Atlantic climate is harsh and unrelenting for much of the year. Toilet training takes much longer in the teeth of a screaming gale, when peeing into the wind may turn into a showering experience! We cannot expect puppies to learn outdoor toileting when all they want to do is retreat indoors to shelter. Because of this much of our northern year is a breeding no-no, but April to July births are manageable.
Most of my puppies go to homes at a distance, mainly in the north of England, but I have a few in local homes. I visit them when invited by their owners, we have tea and talk dog and I groom and smarten the dogs, make a fuss of dogs and owners both, and leave them happy, till next time.
Those further away, I keep in touch with by telephone and by exchange of Christmas cards and dog photos. I have a photo album of my puppy treasures, living happy lives, enriching the lives of others in happy homes I have been welcomed in.
Last week Maureen called. She's one of my local owners, mum to My Boy, a son of the granddam of my current brood trio. He's a strong, lively dog, good looking with a friendly temperament. My dogs are from Famecheck bloodlines and My Boy is true to type. There is a current fashion in Westies for dogs that, to my eye, look rather too compact. Famechecks though, are true to their own line; well stacked at the front, alert, and bursting with energy. Everyone in My Boy's village greets him on his daily walks around his domain. He always responds with tail erect and stiff, wagging frantically. As his greeters pass, his gaze switches mode to alert glances round the territory, looking to savour his next encounter.
My Boy had a visitor.
"She's a lovely wee bitch," Mareen exuded, "but nothing's happening. We wondered if you might be able to offer us some advice, or maybe come over, to advise us."
I did not like the sound of this, particularly the "wee" description of the bitch. My Boy is a big boy and alarm bells were beginning to sound.
"Am I to take it, this bitch is in season and you are trying to mate her to My Boy?" I asked.
"Yes, Tikki came into season yesterday we think, when she showed a drop of blood."
That explained lack of interest. The ladies did not appreciate that while Tikki might be in season, it was at least ten days too early for her to be mated. If this demonstrated how much knowledge these two owners had about doggie sex, I was seriously concerned about the course they appeared to have embarked on. When Maureen had taken My Boy, there had been no question of his possible use as a stud, and the subject had never come up in any of many subsequent invitations to Maureen's house.
"My Boy just doesn't like Tikki enough, or something. He just won't do the business," Maureen went, on sounding concerned. "I might take Tikki to see Dodger, along the road. He's a nice Westie. He might have a better idea what to do."
I interrupted. "No Maureen, don't do that. You know nothing of his ancestry, do you? Tell me what you know about Tikki. Who bred her, and has she been bred from before?"
"I don't know who bred her, someone down in Scotland I think, and this is her first time. She's 18 months old."
This was clearly a case of four dog breeding virgins coming together, and the problems that might come from blissful ignorance worried me.
"Maureen, we have a dog that's not sure of what to do here, plus a bitch who has never been mated before, and it is far too early in her season. No wonder nothing is happening. But tell me, has any research been done on her bloodline? She is only just out of puppyhood herself and may still be maturing. Is this wise? Is it really planned? Does this lady know the work that goes into raising pups? How did it all come about?"
"Well, Angela likes My Boy very much and he's a Famecheck dog, so he's got good breeding and she would like to mate him to her little Tikka."
Having bred My Boy, I know exactly who his antecedents are. They all produce puppies true to the type which Miss FMC Cook, the progenitor of Famecheck, developed over many years, and which won her acclaim over many years competing in the judging ring. Her legacy runs through many, many Westie pedigrees today. They're strong in bone, well-stacked, with powerful forequarters and strength of muscle and agility to move well. However, they also produce large pups, miniatures of the mature adult they become, strong in bone, with powerful looking shoulders, even as newborns.
I had never seen Tikka. I had no idea what she actually looked like, but Maureen described her as "half My Boy's size" which finally became "a bit on the small side, anyway."
What these ladies were proposing was to mate a smaller-than-average Westie bitch, possibly not even fully mature, to a well-built dog, of a type that sires pups almost certain to be larger-than-average. A typical Westie pup weighs-in to the world at about six ounces. My Boy weighed a whopping eight ounces at birth. One of his sisters weighed in at eight and a half ounces. Only one of those pups weighed less than seven ounces. They grew to be strong, healthy young dogs, but mum, who is a little on the petite side, had quite an effort in whelping them.
I remember the night well. She started into final labour eight p.m. one Sunday night. She alternated regular contractions over short periods with longer periods of rest. After a supreme effort, she produced her first little prize fighter at four a.m. on Monday morning and rested for forty minutes before bringing forth her next. Then came more rest, a little drink, a walk outside to pee, then back into the whelping box for numbers three, four and five. By two p.m. Monday, they were all safely delivered.
Sadly, one of them, the six and a half ounce dog puppy, smallest of the litter, had a cleft palate. Though he made gallant attempts to feed at the milk bar, he just could not suck properly. He began to fade. Our veterinary surgeon suggested tube-feeding formula right into his stomach, but fellow Westie-breeders we consulted felt it was better to let this one go. Insertion of a stomach tube is very difficult with a tiny throat. Then there's added danger of drowning the pup if formula milk should enter the lungs by mistake. We left him snuggled in towels, with a warm-water bottle in a shoe box, and kept his mouth and tongue moist. Nature took its course within 24 hours.
The rest thrived, and grew rapidly. They were so demanding of their mother as they grew, that even with just four tummies to fill, she was hard pressed to keep up with them. Her own appetite was insatiable. She spent all her time feeding herself and drinking, feeding and washing the puppies, or sleeping off exhaustion between quick trips outside to toilet herself. After the pups were weaned, she took weeks to recover her full fitness. But recover she did, and had two subsequent litters of Famecheck pups, with no noticeable problems at all.
Maureen was unaware of this and so was Angela. I told Maureen about the problems that can result when a small bitch has to deliver large chunky pups, but Maureen told me that Angela had taken Tikka to a vet who had given her the all-clear for breeding. A little facetiously, I asked when that vet had last bred Westies, explaining that for advice on a sick dog I would go to the vet, but for advice on breeding Westies, I would go to an experienced Westie breeder. Maureen promised to discuss what I had told her with Angela and would ask her to ring me.
The call came that evening and Angela introduced herself. "What did you say was wrong with my dog?" she asked, a little defensively.
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with your dog. I have never seen her. I only suggested that if she is on the small side, My Boy might not be the best mate for her."
"But My Boy's a lovely dog and so friendly, just like Tikka. I thought he would be good."
"Yes, I know what he is like, he's one of my dogs. I bred him, so I know his bloodline right back as well. How about Tikka? Can you tell me about her breeding? I am very interested in knowing about her build and size. It's important when considering pups."
Tikka had been purchased from a Kennel Club registered breeder with her own kennel name. Angela had seen the whole litter as pups at three months old when she purchased. They were all of similar size and build to Tikka, who had not been a litter runt, which had been another possibility. Some Westie breeders in Britain are trying to downsize, to achieve a miniature version of the breed. Maybe this influence was showing in this litter. My own view is that any Westie should be true to type. They were originally bred as a croft dog, to hunt and kill vermin around the croft, which would include perhaps a desperate fox at bay down its foxhole, or holed up in some rocky crag. Not situations where I would expect a miniature dog to come out on top.
Angela and I talked for some time about our respective Westies and I was able to pass on that a vitamin C tablet might cure Tikka's beard stains.
Inevitably the talk got around to why she wanted to breed Tikka.
"I thought it would be good for her, " said Angela, "to have some puppies before I got her spayed. I took her to the vet for a check-up and he said it was all right to breed her. She's got such a lovely quiet nature. I thought if she had some puppies, we could keep one for a companion for her."
"Tikka doesn't care about whether she can have puppies or not, for dogs don't have maternal longings like people." I ventured. "All she wants is her food, a comfortable place to sleep, plenty of stimulation in her life and to be close to you, the leader of her pack. Is she alone much? Why does she need a companion? Tikka doesn't even realise she has the equipment to have puppies. She doesn't care, but I am sure you do, and you need to think about this, Angela. You could be putting her at risk with a mating like this one, if she's small. My Boy will give her large-size pups. If you just want another small, quiet Westie, why not go back to the lady who bred Tikka, for a second pup? But please, don't ask Tikka to give birth to Famecheck-type puppies without being pretty certain she can whelp them."
"But the vet checked her over," Angela protested, "he told me there should be no problems."
"Well there could be, with a dog of Famecheck lines for a sire. They always make big pups. Of course if Tikka's healthy she should be capable of having pups, but it's the size they could be that worries me. Are you prepared for the veterinary bill if Tikka needs an emergency caesarean in the middle of the night?"
"What? Do you think that's possible?"
"Yes," I told her, "that's why I am worried about this breeding. Angela, have you considered the hereditary conditions found in Westies?"
"What hereditary conditions?" she asked.
I gave Angela an account of some of them. I think it was CMO that finally killed off Angela's maternal urges for her dog. Cranio Mandibular Osteopathy (or Craniomandibular Osteoarthropy) is mercifully rare, a disease that cannot yet be predicted, but sometimes does strike and cause a puppy to suffer acute pain in its jawbone. A disease that would require months of analgesic and anti-inflamatory drug treatment, was too much for Angela. Her mental picture of Tikka's brood had not allowed for possible minor problems, let alone major ones.
Angela was thinking hard, but I did not want her to feel forced on the issue, so we moved on to general Westie talk again. Tikka was a picky eater. I directed Angela to Susan Ailsby's cure at Westie World web site.
We got on quite well, despite my concerns about her breeding plans. Then it just tumbled out.
"I've been thinking while we've been talking," Angela announced. "I don't want to take a risk with Tikka. She means too much to me. I might just have her spayed. I can always buy another puppy, like you said."
I felt relieved at her decision, but wanted her to know it was a sensible choice. "That way you get all the fun of raising a pup, but a lot less worry," I suggested. "I think that's a wise decision, Angela."
"You seem to know quite a bit about Westies," said Angela, " maybe you would let me have one from you sometime ...?"
Well ... maybe. But there's a learning curve to negotiate first. The one all my owners have to pass, before I will pass one of my dogs to them. You see, it really is like a relay race. I have to have confidence in my prospective owners to do the job, before I hand on any batons.
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