Apparently Waldoboro is a dry town. Oh, they have ALCOHOL, but…
I grew up with dogs, and spent a lot of time at dog shows growing up, but my mom was strictly a performance person. All of her girls were spayed before 6 months of age, and the earth is statistically slightly more likely to be swallowed by a giant gummy bear than my mother is to ever breed a litter of puppies. The earth is even more statistically likely to be swallowed by a giant gummy bear than I am to have anything to do with giving birth to one of those weird human baby things myself.
So, unsurprisingly, I have absolutely NO CLUE when it comes to breeding a dog to a bitch, or to the inevitable outcome of said breeding, the whelping of puppies. Yes, yes, I understand the Tab A/Slot B thing, but when it comes to the practicalities of GETTING Tab A to slot B? Yeah, no clue.
All of which is a very longwinded and uncomfortably self-referential way of saying: OH MY THANK THE SUN AND STARS FOR KATE!!!!!!!!!!!
Kate picked Eva up from Sarah yesterday and brought her up to Maine for her rendezvous with Magnum. Sarah had told me on the phone that Eva had started flagging a little Saturday night, so I knew that it was probably going to be pretty much Go Time when she arrived and through the next day or two. Easy, right? Hi Eva. Hi Magnum. Now have sex. (Hey, kinda like frat parties in college! *ahem*)
Anyway, Eva came into the house and we let her acclimate and eat some dinner, then brought Magnum out to say his hellos. Sure enough, Eva started flagging almost immediately. Magnum was interested almost immediately. Cue the chase around the kitchen island.
Practicality Number One: Linoleum is slippery. You know that old joke about the cowboy who left his boots on during an encounter with a lady friend, and when asked, explained that it was for traction? Well, Magnum doesn’t have any boots. Cue the conversation, shouted down the basement stairs to my poor, embarrassed, beleaguered husband:
Me: “Honey, we need a sex rug!”
Me: “You know, for traction!” beat. “I mean for the dogs.”
Husband: beat. “THIS is why I’m in the basement.”
So anyway, I went down and retrieved the old rolled up area rug that was down there to put on the kitchen floor, and Kate and I resumed watching the courtship play out. Magnum made several passes and would mount briefly, but never seemed to, erm, get anywhere.
Practicality Number Two: Certain things need to be of sufficient stature to reach certain other things. Look, I don’t want to be too terribly graphic here, and I don’t want to call the poor guy out and give him a complex and shit, but… let’s just say that “Magnum” might not quite be an instance of truth in advertising.
Me: “Did Sarah pick up tubing and a syringe?”
Kate: “Yeah. Do you have any lube?”
Me: OMGsoembarrassingisitagoodthingorbadthingthatIdon’t? “Um, no.”
Kate: “I don’t want to AI her without it.”
Me: “Okay.” beat. “I probably shouldn’t ask the husband to go get it.”
Husband, who is not deaf: silently thanks whatever deities are listening
So, at 7:00 p.m. on a Sunday evening, out I go to the smallish local supermarket. No lubricant. I hunted in all the obvious places, and then the not-so-obvious places. Nada. And no, I did not ask. But I did end up buying a cheese danish. Shut up.
Then I figured, the gas station sells condoms, they must sell KY too, right? No. No, they do not. They have lubricated condoms, but that seemed like a pretty impractical delivery system for our purposes, all things told. So I went to the next gas station. Same story. Aaaaaaand the same story at the convenience store on the corner.
Me: You have got to be #@$%ing kidding me!
Town of Waldoboro: No no, it’s right there in our charter. You can have sex, but you’re not going to be comfortable about it!
Thus ill-equipped, I returned home, where we agreed it was best to quit for the night and resume in the morning after Kate had a chance to go to a pharmacy for the necessaries. She has since reported (in graphic detail) that, while Magnum has still not quite gotten a handle
in it on it, he IS getting a little closer to figuring out the deal, but because we don’t want to take a chance on her not getting bred, Kate did an AI while I’m here at work.
We’ll continue to let them try and get things done the natural way, but will AI a couple more times to be on the safe side. I’ll be present and accounted for during the next one, because much as it is decidedly UNGLAMOROUS to breed dogs, I really need to know how to do this myself.
Good thing the husband is comfortable hanging out in the basement.