In a heartwarming turn of events, the Instituto Amor em Patas (IAPA) recently encountered a pregnant mother dog who had been abandoned at their gate. Natajuli, as she came to be known, was nine weeks pregnant and in dire need of help. When the compassionate volunteers at IAPA found her, she was weak, unable to stand, and consumed by fear. Her vulnerable condition tugged at the hearts of those who came to her aid, and they embarked on a journey of care, support, and new beginnings.
Natajuli’s previous owner had left her at the gate, driven by fear of her impending motherhood. Initially, Natajuli’s fear manifested in her protective behavior, as she guarded herself and her unborn puppies from the unfamiliar faces of the volunteers. However, with time and patience, she began to open up and trust those who extended a helping hand.
One volunteer recounted the moment they first encountered Natajuli, sharing, “Look at her belly – it may contain 13 or 14 precious lives. We are planning to schedule her tests for tomorrow as she is quite weak.” The concern for Natajuli’s well-being was palpable, and the volunteers rallied to provide her with the care she needed.
The anticipation grew as the volunteers prepared for Natajuli’s ultrasound to ensure a safe delivery. Despite her weak state, Natajuli returned to the shelter under their watchful eyes. The momentous occasion finally arrived – Natajuli successfully gave birth to her first baby, a lively young boy.
The heartwarming surprise was unveiled as Natajuli continued to give birth – not to a few, but an astonishing 14 adorable puppies. The sight of Natajuli and her 14 babies evoked a mix of emotions in the volunteers, ranging from overwhelming joy to the sense of responsibility that lay ahead.
A trip to the vet followed, where Natajuli and her 14 little ones underwent check-ups, ultrasounds, and blood tests. Their health was a top priority, and the relief was evident when Natajuli emerged red-faced but strong. The puppies were no exception, each plump and healthy, a testament to the care and dedication poured into their well-being.
One volunteer shared their sentiment, saying, “I was nearly brought to tears when I saw Natajuli’s smile, and her puppies are just too adorable – I can’t help but want to shower them with affection.”
As this heartwarming journey unfolds, the volunteers find themselves faced with the delightful challenge of naming the 14 tiny wonders. An invitation is extended to all who share in their story to suggest names that hold meaning and resonance. These names will become a part of the tale of resilience, hope, and unwavering compassion that defines Natajuli’s journey and the lives she brought into the world.
The pet I’ll never forget: Ella the puppy threw up on me, snubbed me and after 10 years decided to love me
Mum, Dad, my brother Michael: everyone in the family got more affection from our ridgeback-staffie cross. And guess whose bed she used to poo on…
I think the tone was set when Ella threw up over me on the way back from the Dogs Trust. She was three months old, rolling around on the back seat between me and my twin brother, Michael (we’d just turned seven), and wasn’t enjoying her first trip in a car. She could have been sick anywhere – over the seat, over the floor – but for some reason she decided to climb on to me first.
It was the start of a beautiful but strangely one-sided friendship. Ella, a ridgeback-staffie cross, was the perfect dog: playful, energetic, naughty and tolerant. She would let us poke and prod her without complaint, turn her ears inside-out or dress her up in T-shirts or the thick woollen poncho my Greek Cypriot grandma knitted her for the British winter. And she was endlessly loving, at least to the other members of the family. Me? Too often it was as if I didn’t exist. If Michael and I were sitting on the sofa, she’d bound up to him. If I came home after a day out with my dad, he was the one she’d jump at. If I tried to take her for a walk by myself, she’d drag her feet and insist that I fetch my brother.
To add insult to injury, about once a year she would do a poo in the house. Not just anywhere, though: she’d climb the stairs to my room and leave it in a neat pile on top of my bed.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t offended by Ella’s attitude – I loved her just as much as anyone. But it took me a while to realise that in her eyes we were both bitches fighting for our place in the pack. I read that dogs are 98.8% wolf, even yappy little chihuahuas. Ella was a definite she-wolf and my mother (she who opened the tin of dog food every night) was the undisputed alpha female. Ella could handle that fact, but she didn’t want to be the omega female. That was me.
Working out the reasons for Ella’s lack of sisterhood, understanding that her indifference was atavistic and not just casual, didn’t make me any less jealous of my brother, who always took great pleasure in the fact that Ella seemed to prefer him. But I resigned myself to the situation. And then one day (happy ending, anyone?) everything changed. I must have been 16 or 17, we’d been away for a fortnight in France, and when we got back it was me she ran up to first, whining and twisting with pleasure at seeing me again. After that it was like all those years of competition had never happened. We were best friends for ever, or at least for the couple of years she had left. Ella finally loved me.
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