Jack Thornton

For some dog owners, having a litter of purebred puppies represents not only the pride of parenthood but also the lure of potential profit.

This almost never works out. Markets rarely materialize, and by 6-8 weeks of age, owners are ready to give the little pooping machines away.

Christine Pike was a local exception. She and her husband, Joe, ran Pike's Kennels and produced several breeds including Pembroke Welsh corgis, French bulldogs, Shelties and Bernese mountain dogs. Christine was a good animal caretaker as well as a shrewd businesswoman.

Speaking with a slight German accent, she actually was of Austrian descent, and penetrating eyes gave her a formidable countenance. With narrow, arched, penciled eyebrows, whenever skeptical she would raise one while lowering the other. The effect was at least discomforting and at worst the personification of all things evil. Sometimes she scared me.



A boom in business

After opening shop in 1980, Christine came over as a client. It was good for my budding business, but I was shocked because for years she had utilized a very fine and able veterinarian for whom I previously had been employed. So at first I was a little intimidated, but for more than a decade I treated many dogs, sheep, rabbits and goats for her and performed a good number of canine Caesarean sections. One such occasion was particularly memorable.

A C-section involves a long incision over the middle of the belly after which the pregnant uterus is brought out through it. An incision is made into the base of the uterus, from which puppies are removed one at a time.

A clip is placed on the umbilical cord 1-2 inches from the pup as the newborn is removed from its placental sac and handed to an assistant who begins vigorously rubbing each pup to stimulate breathing since it is lightly anesthetized. This is repeated until all the puppies are removed, after which all incisions are sutured closed, and the bitch is encourage to wake up as soon as possible to begin nursing and caring for her babies.



Big-bellied dog

While preparing for surgery a large pregnant Bernese mountain dog, which had been straining for hours to whelp, I noticed how incredibly large her swollen belly looked on the surgery table. Her shaved abdomen looked as big as most terminally pregnant women.

With adrenalin at high tide, I made the initial abdominal incision from stem to stern, after which the hugely distended uterus erupted from the incision and began splitting and tearing in several areas simultaneously spilling five or six puppies in all directions.

With puppies sliding in thick placental mucous all over the table, greenish-black intrauterine fluid running profusely into the mother's abdominal cavity and multiple torn edges of uterus all oozing blood, I did what most veterinary surgeons would do in this situation.

I panicked.



Helping hands

After freaking out momentarily, I realized my first concern was the babies. Fortunately my wife and two daughters were there so, with lots of helping hands the puppies were tended to in a timely fashion. The uterus was so thin that it ripped completely in several areas and could not be repaired so mama had to be spayed.

The dark fluid was "mopped" from the open abdominal cavity and when all was said and done, we had a live mother and 11 large, live healthy pups.

Christine sold eight of the pups for $750 each and three as pet quality for $500 each. That litter was worth about four times as much as the car I was driving.

My friend Burgess in Sitka, Alaska, who is notorious for charging low fees, had an interesting system for billing canine C-sections. He required a fee of 25 percent of the money received from the sale of the litter. Give the puppies away, the surgery is free. Sell the pups for ... you do the math.

I was delighted beyond words to receive my $125 fee but if in this case had I been Burgess ... well, I could have afforded a better automobile.

Jack Thornton is a semiretired veterinarian.