Cheyenne and The Purebred “Sibeollie” ..................................................
Is it true? Is there really such a thing? Has this breeder actually lost her cotton-picking mind? No, you did not misread the title, it’s just one adventure in the annals of pure-bred dog breeding. Anyone who has bred and whelped a litter of puppies knows the planning, blood, sweat, tears, worries, fretting, loss of sleep, and finances that go along with it. This litter was one for the books, but it also portrays the story of a true hero by the name of Cheyenne.
On Sunday, March 28, 1999, Champion PermafrostUntilFurthrNotice, aka Tillie, went into labor. Tillie was out of my wonderful boy, Am/Can Ch. Trepak’s Cloak and Dagger (Dirk), and a lovely Tradewind (Ch. Innisfree’s Tradewind) granddaughter, Ch. Anjeli’s Iced Tea (Tia). Tillie’s litter sister finished quickly and was a multiple Best In Show winning bitch. Tillie also finished quickly and was, arguably, a better bitch than her litter sister. She was to be my next Special in the show ring after she had her first, and much anticipated, litter out of Ch. Innisfree’s Treasure Hunt.
After hours of shaking, shredding, pacing and pushing, it was evident that Tillie was not progressing in her labor and was getting extremely exhausted. Sandy and I headed for the nearest emergency veterinary clinic where we spent probably (at that time) some of the most stressful dog-related hours of my life. What happened will never really be known but a routine C-section turned into a life and death struggle for my beloved Tillie. The emergency vets proceeded with the section and delivered 4 beautiful puppies: 2 light red and white females, a gray female and a black and white male. While Sandy and I were cooing at the cute bundles in the incubator, we were informed that Tillie was not coming out of the anesthesia as quickly as she should, and was bleeding more than normal. To make this part of the long, long story shorter, the decision was made to spay Tillie in order to save her life. Sandy and I headed home with news that Tillie had a 50/50 chance of survival, four squeaking puppies, and orders to return by 8:00 the following morning to pick Tillie up for transfer to her regular vet’s office.
I stayed up all night crying, tube feeding and checking puppies, crying, and tube feeding puppies….well, you get the idea. However, during the night I picked myself up in order to be in some sort of shape to pick up my dog. After paying an exorbitant bill, they brought Tillie up. When I saw her, the faucet of tears started all over again; she looked dreadful! She barely recognized me, still had a feeding tube affixed down her nose and couldn’t stand or walk. However, her prognosis was much better than when I left. Once again, I picked myself up and somehow managed the 45 minute drive to my regular vet’s office. As soon my vet came into the room, someone turned on that darned tear faucet again. After much discussion, it pretty much boiled down to “you-know-what” happens, and it is what it is. Tillie got a thorough once over, and by the end of the day was cleared to come home, but was far from strong enough to be with her puppies. A nagging feeling of dread was beginning to creep in that she may never get strong enough to drop milk and be the mother of this litter.
After another day or two of checking and tubing puppies, I brought Tillie down to meet her puppies. This day was so very heartbreaking! Tillie wanted SO much to be a mother. She was so very gentle and loving, curling up around the puppies, protecting them, cleaning them; but alas, I could see how frustrated she was getting and it was a sure bet that this was not going to happen. I was face to face with the daunting task of hand raising this litter.
Now during this entire ordeal, I was in regular conversation with my niece Amy who, as many of you know, breeds and shows Collies. We began brainstorming about available foster mothers for these puppies. First, going through all of the possible Siberians who had recently given birth THEN ruling them out as Siberian bitches are generally just that – bitches - and not very accommodating to puppies that are not theirs (where’s Button when I need her…?). One of Amy’s Rough Collies, Can Ch. Oak Knolls Cheyenne Wind HIC (HIC is a Herding Instinct Certification title), aka Cheyenne, was just on the tail end of weaning a litter of 6 puppies. Amy knew that Cheyenne certainly wouldn’t hurt the puppies, but wasn’t sure she would care for them, but we decided that Cheyenne was our best shot. With a gulp and a prayer, Cheyenne was introduced to the “Heathen” Siberian litter (note to everyone: Amy refers to Siberians as “Heathens” J).
Cheyenne stepped into that whelping box, turned and gave Amy a “….and you want me to do WHAT?” look, then with barely a hesitation, proceeded to start cleaning, cuddling and nursing. God bless Cheyenne! You could tell she loved puppies, but this was a lot to ask of any mom. You could also tell she was doing this mostly out of maternal instinct, but also because she loved Amy and that is what Amy asked of her. There was truly an extraordinary bond between Amy and Cheyenne. Within a day, Cheyenne’s milk had regained its newborn vigor as these puppies took to their new mother (it sure beats a feeding tube down the throat multiple times a day!).
Poor Cheyenne! Separated from the owner she loves, in a strange basement, in a house with two strange men (not to say that Ralph and Reid were/are “strange”, but they were strange to her, and Cheyenne was leery around men she didn’t know), in a strange whelping box, raising some other bitch’s puppies. Every time Ralph or Reid came into the whelping room, Cheyenne would get up and bark her head off. In spite of it all, a relatively agreeable routine was established and we all settled in to the business of fattening up puppies. Amy made regular visits so that Cheyenne didn’t think she had been abandoned to “Siberian Hell” and it was during that time, watching this Rough Collie nursing a litter of Siberian Huskies, that Amy and I decided that we are responsible for the very first litter of pure-bred “Sibeollies”.
I could tell that when the puppies were just over 2 weeks old, Cheyenne was beginning to get pretty stressed out. As a result, I got them started on “gruel” very early. Additionally, I started getting them used to the bottle so they could continue to receive that stimulation after Cheyenne left. It was also at this time I noticed that the little grey female wasn’t up to the developmental stage as the other three. Yet another heartbreak!! And to shorten another long story of which I will not go into detail; at 4 weeks old, I was down to 3 puppies; the tear faucet had rejuvenated itself and was working overtime for a couple of days.
By the time the puppies were 3 weeks old, Cheyenne had had enough and was ready to go home and the puppies were ready for me to continue raising them. As any breeder knows, even at this age it was still a lot of work, but Cheyenne certainly got these babies over the most critical hump. Amy said that on the day she picked up Cheyenne, they went visit Brian (the other half of Oak Knoll Collies) to see a newborn Oak Knoll litter. Cheyenne walked up to the whelping box, looked at Amy, sighed and crawled into the box as if to say “OK, I will take care of these, too”.
As my puppies grew, Amy and I would joke that their muzzles were longer than normal, they tended to herd things, and their barks were way too “sharp” to be Siberians – must be the Collie milk! And, throughout their entire show career, Amy and my hero, Cheyenne, supported these puppies every step of the way. Amy would come ringside and cheer for the Cheyenne son or daughter and Cheyenne would make regular trips to the house and romp and play with her adopted puppies.
So, you ask, who was in my “Sibeollie” litter? Well, for those who have been around for awhile, you may recognize them. For those who haven’t been around as long, you may recognize some of their “kids”:
Multiple BISS Ch. Trepak’s Grand Theft “Bandit”
o Sire of many, including Ch. Trepak’s No Two Alike O’Avadar “Qannik”, Ch Romeo’s Champagne Wishes “Blush”, and Ch. Romeo’s Witchey Woman “Tamika” to name a few
Ch. Trepak’s Glacial Snow “Firn”
o Dam of Ch. Trepak’s Jadestone “Jade” and multiple BISS Ch. Trepak’s Jumanji “Dice” and
Ch. Trepak’s Gossimer Wings “Cricket”
o Who retired to be Lauren McIlraith’s Junior Showmanship dog. Lauren went on to win many awards including “Best Junior” at the Eukanuba Classic with Cricket on the end of the lead.
To me, breeding purebred dogs is not about the money, because there isn’t any. How many times have I heard, “You breed show dogs? Wow, you must make a lot of money”? That’s always good for a maniacal laugh out of me. And it isn’t about the all-encompassing time spent. It’s about a love and dedication to a breed of dog that is difficult to articulate. I really enjoy showing dogs, but it goes beyond that. Have I questioned my sanity? Yes. Has my family questioned my sanity? Double yes. Have I questioned why I do this? Yes. Have I threatened to quit? Yes. But then I see the joy that a Siberian I bred, brings to a family or one that exhibits qualities and traits that could contribute to this extraordinary breed, and I stop asking those questions, at least until the next litter. I’ve always said that I could probably retire early and would be comfortably financially set (not that I am destitute, mind you) if I didn’t have dogs. But in all honesty, I’m a rich person because I have dogs. Each dog, be it Siberian, Collie or Mutt; contributes to my “life-bank” and I am thankful! Sadly, Cheyenne is no longer with us, but she will forever be my hero, and I am a richer person having known her.
