Hope Floats, Even Through Tears: Remembering Harry

There are parts of raising puppies that are filled with so much joy it is difficult to put them into words. And then there are days that break your heart.

This is one of those stories.

When Sam surprised us with an early delivery Thursday evening, everything went beautifully. One by one, eight little puppies entered the world without complication. Sam settled immediately into being their momma, and all eight babies appeared to be doing well.

We were grateful. Relieved. And excited to introduce CaveInn’s Hope Floats.

We chose Hope Floats as the theme for this litter because of everything the name represents—family, new beginnings, resilience, and the belief that even when life doesn't go exactly as planned, there is always reason to hope.

We had no idea just how meaningful that word would become.

Our Little Harry Calvert

Harry was one of three silver boys in the litter and the eighth and final puppy born to Sam. We named him Harry Calvert, keeping with our Hope Floats cast of characters.

Like all of our newborns, Harry was weighed, monitored and handled from the beginning. Those first days with a litter involve a lot of observation. We watch them nurse. We weigh them. We listen to them. We notice how they sleep and how they move. We learn very quickly what is normal for each individual puppy.

And we noticed when Harry wasn't progressing as we hoped.

Sometimes, despite a healthy delivery and a puppy who initially appears normal, a newborn simply begins to struggle. The term often used for this is fading puppy syndrome.

It isn't a single disease or diagnosis. Rather, it describes a newborn puppy who fails to thrive during those vulnerable first days or weeks of life. There can be many possible causes, and sometimes even with veterinary intervention, there is never a definitive answer as to why one puppy struggles while its littermates continue to flourish.

Once we realized Harry needed help, we did everything we knew to do.

We worked with our veterinarian. We provided supportive care, including subcutaneous fluids and antibiotics. We carefully monitored him, kept him warm and comfortable, and continued doing everything possible to give his little body the opportunity to rally.

And we hoped.

Every small improvement gives you hope. Every time they nurse, you hope. Every time you pick them up and feel a little strength, you hope.

You tell yourself, maybe we're turning the corner.

Unfortunately, Harry's little body simply couldn't overcome whatever was working against him.

Saying Goodbye

Yesterday morning, we realized our fight was coming to an end.

Harry was with us and with his momma, Sam, when he passed.

We held him. We loved him. And we cried when he took his last breath.

That is a moment that will stay with us.

People sometimes assume that after raising puppies for many years, breeders somehow become accustomed to loss.

We don't.

At least, we haven't.

Every puppy born here becomes ours the moment we welcome that tiny body into our hands. Before there is a family waiting to take them home, before there is a collar or a puppy pick or a go-home day, there are those first quiet hours when they belong completely to us and their momma.

We know their birth order. We know who is noisy. We know who always finds the best spot at the milk bar. We know who wiggles when we pick them up and who immediately settles into our hands.

They become individuals remarkably quickly.

And when we lose one, we don't simply change the number of puppies in the litter.

There is an empty place where that puppy should have been.

The Part of Breeding You Don't Always See

There is so much happiness associated with raising puppies—and there should be.

Birth announcements. Tiny noses and toes. First steps. Eyes opening. Puppy piles. First meals. Outdoor adventures. Families falling in love. And finally, the bittersweet excitement of watching each puppy leave with the people who have been waiting for them.

Those are the moments we love sharing.

But responsible breeding also has another side.

Sometimes it means sitting beside a whelping box at 2:00 in the morning.

Sometimes it means weighing a puppy over and over because a few grams suddenly matter tremendously.

Sometimes it means phone calls and trips to the veterinarian, medications, fluids, sleepless nights and doing everything within your ability to help a tiny life survive.

And occasionally, despite all of those efforts, it means saying goodbye.

That is perhaps the hardest reality of bringing life into the world: we cannot control every outcome.

We can carefully select our breeding dogs. We can complete health testing and genetic testing. We can provide excellent prenatal care. We can work closely with our veterinarian. We can provide a clean, warm nursery and watch newborn puppies around the clock.

We can do everything right.

And sometimes nature still has another plan.

Knowing that doesn't make the loss easier.

There Will Always Be Eight

Today, seven beautiful puppies remain tucked beside Sam.

Big Delores, Birdee, Justin Matisse, Travis, Bernice, Bill Pruitt and Bobbi-Claire are growing and doing well. For that, we are profoundly grateful.

Watching them nurse and sleep beside their momma brings comfort after a very difficult few days.

But when we tell the story of CaveInn's Hope Floats, we will always say that Sam delivered eight puppies.

Because Harry was one of them.

His life may have been measured in days rather than years, but the length of a life doesn't determine whether that life had value.

He knew warmth.

He knew his momma.

He knew the comfort of his littermates.

He knew our hands and our voices.

And most importantly, he knew love.

Hope Floats, Even Through Tears

When we chose Hope Floats as the theme for this litter, we imagined it representing eight new beginnings and the families who would eventually welcome these puppies home.

We thought about hope as something joyful.

We didn't anticipate being reminded that hope also exists in the difficult moments.

Hope was getting up one more time to check Harry.

Hope was preparing another syringe of fluids.

Hope was watching for the smallest sign that he might be getting stronger.

Hope was whispering to him that he could do it.

And when there was nothing more we could do, love meant simply being there.

Harry wasn't alone when he left this world. He was beside his momma and surrounded by the people who had fought for him from the moment we realized he needed us.

There is some peace in that.

Our Hope Floats story will continue over the coming weeks. Seven little puppies will open their eyes, find their feet, discover toys and grass and sunshine, develop their own personalities, and eventually leave the CaveInn in the arms of their families.

There will be plenty of happy moments ahead.

But tucked quietly into their story will always be a little silver boy named Harry.

Harry Calvert

Our eighth puppy.

Our little fighter.

Our little angel.

You were here.
You were loved.
You mattered.

Hope floats—even through tears. 🤍