05/30/2026
Late Night Thoughts with Savannah
I think everyone has seasons where life just keeps kicking them while theyāre down. Weāre definitely in one of those seasons.
And before anyone worries, Iām okay. Iām trying to joke about a lot of this (kinda) because humor is how I cope. If youāve followed me for any length of time, you know I can usually find something to laugh about, even in the middle of chaos.
But if Iām being completely honest, things feel heavy right now.
I will never claim to have a perfect litter. Breeding is livestock, not manufacturing. Things happen. But when I tell you Violetās litter has made me question everything Iāve done and built in my program, I mean it.
If something could go wrong, it seemed determined to happen with this litter.
We moved into our new house two weeks before the puppies were born. We still arenāt completely unpacked, but thatās another story for another day.
For the first 5Ā½ weeks, my world revolved around Gator. Every spare minute, every ounce of energy, every thought was dedicated to trying to help him survive. I remember spending time with the puppies, but honestly, most of that period is a blur of trying to save him. In the end, I still lost him.
Then I got a call that Lena, one of my retired poodle moms, was sitting in a shelter in Kansas City. Everything stopped while I worked to prove who I was and get her home. When she came back, she was skin and bones. Six weeks later, sheās finally starting to look like herself again.
Then came hearing tests.
An eight-hour round trip to the nearest clinic that performs BAER testing, only to find out that two puppies were completely deaf.
That one hurt.
It made me question everything. Every breeding decision. Every piece of advice Iād been given. Every lesson Iād learned. Somewhere, somehow, something had gone wrong.
After a lot of thought, Sancho was retired. Between the two parents, I felt more confident preserving Violetās line than his, simply because I knew more of her history.
And then the last couple of weeks became pure chaos.
Sage had her puppies. Thank goodness sheās a fantastic mother, because Violetās litter has consumed every spare second of my life. The only reason Sage was bred this close was because we were convinced Violet was carrying a small litter and I had a lengthy waitlist.
Instead, Violet surprised us with what felt like the first Dashing Dozen.
As luck would have it.
Then the puppies decided eating p**p was a hobby.
I tried free-feeding to discourage it. Huge mistake. We were going through nearly two gallons of food a day, and all it accomplished was producing more p**pā¦ and therefore more opportunities for p**p consumption.
Remember the potty training we started?
Some puppies learned it beautifully.
Others learned how to crawl under the tray and destroy the entire setup.
They have easily been the messiest litter Iāve ever raised.
Eventually, we got everyone back on a schedule. Hard stools. Clean puppies. Things were finally looking up.
Then boom.
Somebody had nasty p**p again.
One puppy ended up at the emergency vet. Maybe it was a vaccine reaction. Maybe dehydration. Nobody was completely sure. Thankfully, she bounced back and has been perfectly fine ever since.
Then came our regular vet appointment and what will forever be remembered as the Poop-tastrophe of 2026.
Never in my life have I witnessed puppies create the level of destruction they managed that day.
Every puppy was healthy. Every puppy was cleared to go home.
But I probably should have been admitted somewhere afterward.
This litter has absolutely drained me.
Every bit of passion, excitement, and energy I normally have for breeding Dalmatians feels completely depleted right now.
People often forget that I work full-time on top of breeding. Breeding is not my full-time job, but it is absolutely a full-time responsibility.
I get home around 5:00 and most nights donāt sit down until 8:00 or 9:00.
Cleaning consumes me.
Keeping the house clean for Braydon, the girls, and ourselves consumes me.
Cleaning up after puppies consumes me.
Listening to puppies scream because they arenāt allowed to terrorize the adult dogs consumes me.
The reality is that life doesnāt stop just because puppies are on the ground.
While Iām not a human mom, I do fill a motherly role for a 5-year-old and a 6-year-old, and those girls come before everything else. Always.
After them, I still have seven adult dogs that deserve my time, attention, and love. And honestly? Theyāve gotten the short end of the stick lately. None of them have had a bath or been groomed since these puppies were born, which is absolutely not normal around here. Theyāve been fed, exercised, loved on, and cared for, but they havenāt gotten nearly as much of me as they usually do.
Meanwhile, there are things happening in our personal lives that nobody knows about. Things that make it feel like our entire world is shaking beneath our feet.
Yet somehow weāre expected to smile and keep moving like everything is fine.
And the moment I finally sit down, the messages start.
Pictures.
Videos.
Updates.
Questions.
More pictures.
More videos.
On Wednesday alone, I opened and left 75 messages unread between 5:00 and 7:30 PM because I simply had nothing left to give.
Seventy-five.
People asking for updated puppy photos. People asking for pictures of puppies that havenāt even been picked yet. People wanting more photos even though pickup was only days away.
And the thing isā¦ I care.
Probably too much.
I bend over backwards trying to make everyone happy because relationships matter to me.
Tonight I was trying to decompress and spend a little time with the puppies before my favorite Trio of Chaos came through the door.
One puppy got under my feet while I was trying not to step on anyone, and I accidentally stepped on and broke his nail.
His owner was incredibly understanding.
But it felt like one more thing.
One more reminder that lately, I canāt seem to catch a break.
Now puppies are finally starting to leave, and messages are rolling in that Iāve interpretedārightly soāas disappointment.
And honestly?
There have been SEVERAL moments where Iāve wanted to throw my hands up and say, āForget it.ā
But here we are.
Still showing up.
Still smiling.
Still doing the work.
Do I care?
Absolutely.
Do I feel like Iām failing?
Without question.
Will I miss these puppies when theyāre gone?
More than Iād like to admit.
Am I actually giving up?
No.
Iām just tired.
Really, really tired.
But puppies are starting to leave. The house will eventually get quiet again. My adult dogs will get their baths. The girls will keep me on my toes. Life will settle back into whatever version of normal weāre supposed to have.
Until then, weāre just going to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
This litter theme was supposed to be āMayhem, But Make It Cute.ā
Turns out it was more like āMayhem, Please Send Help.ā
