14Aug
When I first started thinking about writing this, I imagined it would be easy. Raven has now had her final litter, and there is so much that I am proud of and want to remember. But this final chapter hasn't been quite as easy for me to put into words as I expected.
Raven was my first female as part of Wolf Heart Pomskies, so it feels impossible to talk about my journey as a breeder without talking about her. We have learned together. When I look back at the breeder I was when Raven had her first litter and compare that person with the breeder I am today, I can see just how much I have learned. Every pregnancy, birth and puppy has taught me something. Some lessons came from wonderful experiences, some from things I would do differently with the knowledge I have now, and others came from situations I could never have planned for.
Raven's puppies have also taught me that breeding doesn't end when a puppy leaves my home. Watching them grow has helped me understand the traits that are passed through generations: temperament, structure, size, coat, confidence, quirks and all those tiny characteristics that make each dog an individual. I have been able to watch not only Raven's puppies grow, but the next generation too. Her influence now runs through Wolf Heart Pomskies in a way that will continue long after her own breeding days are over. And through all of it, there has been Raven. My matriarch.
Sometimes it feels as though Raven has simply always been here. She isn't just one of my dogs and she has never been simply a breeding female. She is a member of our family and such a constant presence in our lives that it is difficult for me to remember our family without her. She is someone I trust completely. I trust her with my children. I trust her when new dogs arrive. I trust her around tiny puppies. She seems to instinctively understand when to be gentle, when another dog needs guidance and when somebody simply needs her company. One of the things I love most about Raven is her natural ability to accept and love. A person doesn't have to earn months of Raven's trust before she decides they belong. There is a warmth and certainty about her that is difficult to put into words unless you have known her. She has always had such a wonderful way of communicating with the dogs around her. She doesn't need chaos or drama to make herself understood. She has helped puppies learn boundaries, interacted with her grandchildren and played a huge part in shaping the pack I have today.
Her final litter therefore carried a lot of emotion for me before the puppies were even born. I knew this was the last time I would scan Raven and see those tiny flickering heartbeats. The last time I would prepare for one of her births. The last time I would watch her settle beside a brand-new litter of her own puppies.
I wanted to take everything I had learned over the years and make this litter something I could look back on with pride. But one of the things breeding has taught me most strongly is that loving dogs, researching endlessly and preparing for every eventuality does not give us the ability to control everything that happens.
This litter brought me one of the hardest experiences I have faced as a breeder when Ivy was injured in an accident while she was very young.
Even writing that sentence is difficult. Ivy's injury has affected me enormously. There have been many moments when I have questioned myself and wished more than anything that I could go backwards and change what happened. I can't.
What I can do is make sure that everything after that moment is about giving Ivy what she needs. She has had weeks of veterinary care and immobilisation, and now we are beginning the next part of her recovery. After five weeks in a splint, she has a lot of strength and movement to regain. We are taking things gently, following professional guidance and preparing to begin physiotherapy. Already, I am seeing little changes. Seeing her become happier again means more to me than I can properly explain. I debated whether Ivy belonged in this blog at all. Part of me wanted Raven's final-litter story to simply be a celebration. Another part felt that leaving out something that has affected me so deeply would make the story incomplete.
Ultimately, breeding has never just been about sharing the perfect moments for me. It is about responsibility. It is about constantly learning. It is about celebrating when things go wonderfully and being there just as fiercely when they don't. I will probably always wish I could change what happened to Ivy. But I hope that one day, when I look back at this period, the accident won't be the first thing I remember. I hope I remember her determination, the tiny improvements, everything we learned during her rehabilitation and the little dog she became afterwards.
And I don't want that one painful part of this litter to take away what Raven has given me over all these years. I am incredibly proud of her. I'm proud of the mother she has been. I'm proud of the puppies she has produced. I'm proud when I hear from their families and see the dogs they have grown into. I'm proud of the generations that have followed her.
Most of all, I am grateful for everything she has taught me. Being a good breeder, I have realised, isn't about reaching a point where there is nothing left to learn. In fact, the more I learn, the more questions I seem to have. I still research. I still question my decisions. I still look for ways of improving how I raise my puppies. I hope I never lose that desire to learn. But perhaps I also need to learn to occasionally look backwards instead of always looking for the next thing I could do better.
Because when I look back at Raven's journey, there is an awful lot to be proud of. And now that her breeding chapter has ended, I find myself thinking about something much harder. Raven has always been here. Somewhere in my heart, I think I expect her to always be here. I want her to live forever. A life in which Raven isn't beside me feels almost impossible to imagine. Surely she will just always be here? Always part of the pack, always watching everything that's happening, always being Raven.
Of course, deep down, I know that isn't a promise life can give me. But perhaps there is another way in which Raven really will be here forever. I see her in Alaska. I see her in Eden. I see little pieces of her in puppies she has produced and in the generations that have followed them. And one day I hope I will see those familiar little Raven traits appearing again in puppies that haven't even been born yet. A look. A behaviour. A little bit of attitude. A particular way of interacting with another dog or loving a person they have only just met. And I'll know exactly where it came from. Her breeding chapter may have finished, but Raven's story within Wolf Heart Pomskies hasn't.
She was there near the beginning. She helped shape the breeder I became, the dogs I have today and so much of what my breeding programme has grown into. She isn't simply part of its history. Raven is the heart of it.
And through Alaska, Eden, the puppies already living wonderful lives with their families, the generations still to come and everything she has taught me along the way, that heart will keep beating through Wolf Heart Pomskies long into the future. So perhaps, in her own way, Raven really does get to live forever.
Thank you, Raven.
For every puppy. Every lesson. Every challenge. Every memory. For loving my children, accepting every new arrival and helping me raise generations of puppies. And simply for always being there. Now you get to simply be Raven. My girl. My family. And forever, a part of everything Wolf Heart Pomskies is and everything I hope it will become. ❤️
~ Claire 🐾