My husband and I started fostering this puppy when he was less than twenty-four hours old. His mother died shortly after whelping, likely a complication of dystocia (difficulty giving birth). He and his two litter mates were surrendered the next day and we have had him since. The other two puppies went to a different foster family. I typically do not get overly attached to bottle babies- unless we hit a medical snag along the way, in which case, all bets are off.
We spent weeks bottle feeding him and he did very well. Just as he started opening his eyes, he had three seizures in one night; about the third hour in the emergency hospital, I gave him my heart. We never conclusively identified the cause of the seizures, but he has recovered nicely and continues to develop right on schedule. We have successfully transitioned him onto canned food, and I’m doing laundry at a wicked clip.
He is now getting to the age where we need to prepare ourselves emotionally so that we can return him to the shelter minimally scathed. We haven’t given him a proper name yet, for when we do, it will solidify the emotional connection we have with him. Currently, we call him Baby Dog, and he is going to be a heartbreaker. *sigh*