Nicola Barker - Darkmans

Beede shone the torch. There was blood everywhere, but it appeared black in the torchlight. The man reached out his hand and lightly touched this dark stain, perhaps believing that it was just a shadow.

‘Oh shit! ’ he exclaimed, feeling the warmth of it, seeing it leak on to his fingers. ‘What the hell’s happening here?’

‘Pass me my glasses,’ Beede instructed him, ‘so I can take a proper look.’

The man hesitated.

‘I know about dogs,’ Beede lied.

The man handed him his glasses. Beede put them on. He squatted down. ‘She’s whelping,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

‘What?’

‘She’s whelping. She’s pregnant. She’s giving birth.’

The man looked astonished, then appalled, then enraged, ‘Don’t be disgusting,’ he growled. ‘She’s ten years old. She’s neutered .’

‘Look at the size of her nipples,’ Beede insisted, ‘they’re all distended…’ His eyes widened. ‘Good Lord . I believe I can almost see a head —the crown of a head…’

The man sprang back, in horror, almost losing his balance. He held out his knife, as if to defend himself with it.

‘That’s a lie!’ he yelled.

‘It’s no such thing,’ Beede said calmly. ‘Whether you like it or not, she’s giving birth.’

‘She’s neutered,’ the man repeated, ‘she’s a virgin. She’s a good girl. She’s ten years old.’

Beede stretched out a hand to try and aid the poor creature.

‘Don’t touch her!’ he roared, brandishing the blade.

‘Calm down!’ Beede snapped. ‘You’re upsetting her. She’s stressed enough as it is. And she’s old . She’s probably as mystified by all of this as you are.’

Gringo had fallen on to her side and she was panting, heavily.

‘Who did this to her?’ the man yelled, brandishing the knife again (as if Beede might’ve been responsible). ‘Which dirty, interfering bastard did this to my girl?’

‘That head looks rather large, ‘Beede observed. ‘It’s as much as she can do to squeeze it out…’ He grimaced. ‘She might need some help…’

Gringo’s breathing became more strained.

‘ Enough! ’ the man gasped, overwhelmed. ‘ Stop this, Gringo! Get up. Up. Up! ’

The dog tried to struggle to her feet and then collapsed back down.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Beede snapped, ‘and you’re confusing her.’ The man continued to hold out the knife, but his confidence was starting to waver.

‘Put that knife away,’ Beede instructed him. ‘I need you to hold the torch.’

The man stared at him, terrified. ‘What will you do?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. Not a damn thing until you calm down and put away your blade.’

He took off his rucksack and began unbuckling the main flap. The man slowly slid his knife into its holster.

‘Is she going to die?’ he asked.

‘Not if we keep our heads about us,’ Beede said, passing him the torch and then removing a clean shirt and a clean vest from inside. ‘We need to keep her warm…’ He wrapped the shirt around the dog, ‘and we need to stop her from going into shock…’

‘Gringo! WHY?!’ the man bellowed, starting to sob uncontrollably. ‘Hold the torch properly ,’ Beede barked. ‘Control yourself. I need to see what I’m doing here.’

‘I don’t want her to die,’ the man whined, ‘don’t let her die. Please don’t let her die.’

‘Okay, Gringo,’ Beede whispered, pulling off his gloves, stroking the dog’s head, trying to reassure her. ‘You’re doing fine. Good girl. You’re doing fine.’

Gringo pushed.

‘That’s it, girl, a couple more of those and we’ll have it sorted.’

‘ Pull it!’ the man yelled hysterically. ‘ Grab it! Get it out of her!’

‘ Quiet! ’ Beede snarled. ‘If I pull too soon I could cause a rupture…’ The man squeaked.

Beede touched the pup’s head. ‘Come on, lad, you’re almost out, you’re nearly there…’

‘It’s HUGE,’ the man squealed.

‘It’s big,’ Beede confirmed, ‘but she’s doing a grand job. Good girl, Gringo, one more push. That’s it. One more push…’

Gringo pushed again. The pup was almost half-way out now. Beede slowly tried to ease its progress. Gringo pushed again. The pup plopped neatly into Beede’s hand followed by a quick mess of afterbirth. The man dropped the torch, in shock.

‘For God’s sake,’ Beede admonished him, ‘pull yourself together. We need some light here…’

‘Sorry.’

He picked up the torch and pointed it at Beede again.

‘Not in my eyes …’

He redirected its blaze.

The puppy was still neatly contained inside its shiny, amniotic membrane.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ the man asked, horrified. ‘It just looks like snot.’

Beede carefully held the pup up close to the bitch’s face. She sniffed at it, fascinated, then inspected the umbilical cord, opened her mouth and bit it cleanly in half.

‘Well done,’ Beede congratulated her. ‘Now you just need to tear the membrane…’

Instead of inspecting the pup, however, the bitch seemed far more interested in the afterbirth. She licked at it for a few moments and then took a furtive bite.

‘Leave that alone! Don’t be filthy!’ the man admonished her.

‘She’ll want to eat it,’ Beede muttered, still preoccupied by the tiny pup, ‘it’s only natural. Instinctive . She knows it’ll be full of vital nutrients…’

As he spoke he gently tore away the membrane then cleared any spare mucus from the pup’s face with his thumb. When this was done, he rubbed it, gently, with the vest. The pup opened its mouth and mewed.

‘Good,’ Beede said, ‘that’s the first one sorted. By rights I should let it suckle, but the conditions here are hardly conducive. I think you should probably just store this little fellow inside your shirt.’

The man stared at him, horrified.

‘It’ll die otherwise. It’s freezing cold out here. Take it. Put it inside your shirt, but make sure you don’t smother it…’

The man didn’t move.

‘ Take it!’ Beede hissed.

The man reached out his hand. He took the pup. He stared at it, in wonder.

‘Inside your shirt,’ Beede repeated, returning to the mother. ‘Okay, Gringo, how’re we doing here?’

He rested a gentle hand on the dog’s womb. She’d given up on the afterbirth and was panting again. He wrapped the shirt closer around her.

‘Is there someone else inside there, girl? Have you got your breath back? Are you going to try and push again, eh?’

Gringo tried to push.

‘That’s it. That’s the way…’

Gringo pushed again. Then again. Another head began to crown. ‘That was quick,’ Beede said, glancing up, ‘usually the wait is longer. But the pup doesn’t look nearly so large this time…’

The man had now tucked the puppy inside his shirt. ‘Well done, Gringo,’ he said, moving forward slightly, his voice wavering with emotion. ‘That’s my girl.’

The dog pushed.

‘She’s responding positively to the sound of your voice,’ Beede encouraged him. ‘Keep on talking.’

‘Well done, Gringo,’ he repeated. ‘Clever Gringo.’

The dog pushed again.

‘Don’t die , Gringo…’ His voice cracked. Tears began rolling down his cheeks again.

‘Try and hold it together, will you?’ Beede said brusquely. He softly stroked the dog’s head. ‘Okay, girl,’ he murmured. ‘We’re gonna need one more big push. That’s it. One more. One more big push…’