My dog is about to have pups. It’s her first and possibly her last litter. I’ve learned a lot in the process that I never knew before and would have probably been fine without ever knowing. Like, when three minutes after the stud dog arrived and my wife and I were meeting his owners for the first time, Mavis (our dog) screams a cry of terror. We turn and find they are locked together facing away from each other. I didn’t know that’s how it worked. How do you have an adult conversation with a couple you’ve just met with that happening in the background?
After that occasion my wife declared all the gross stuff now and forever my responsibility.
One of those privileges is taking rectal temps the week of birth. These hind end forays are to determine the day of birth by a temperature drop. Butt this story is about bears. It all relates. Bear with me.
The summer my friend and I trapped bears for research, we had the privilege of all sorts of measurements and samplings that needed to occur for data collection. Because the bears were sedated and it was mid summer in the Appalachian mountains, we watched closely to make sure the bears didn’t overheat like your dad’s jalopy. To do this, you took its temperature through its derrière. I told you it would relate.
The climax of the story is already here. The only difference between the dipstick that exits a dog’s rump and the dipstick that exits a bear’s rump is a bear’s comes out purple matching their primary summer diet of blueberries. This too is embarrassing in the company of mixed couples.