Victory's Tiny Dancers: The troupe, waiting in the wings . . . .

As I mentioned in my last post, tomorrow (Tuesday the 17th) is the day for which we scheduled Victory's x-ray. This morning every Canadian's favourite TV station, The Weather Network, was forecasting that a winter storm would start tonight and continue all through the day tomorrow. I didn't think taking a chance and driving across the city for our appointment with Dr. G. in the middle of a winter storm was a particularly good idea, so I called the clinic first thing this morning to see if it might be possible for us to come today. There was an opening at 1 p.m., which meant I had to wait only about five more hours before getting further proof that my beautiful girl is, in fact, pregnant. (Yes, I know . . . ultrasound, big belly, breast development, movement . . . you'd think I'd have relaxed by now. But I haven't . . . not really.) I called Margaret so that she could join us there (she wanted to meet Victory's obstetrician), and we headed off.

My heart was pounding as we waited our turn. Sound familiar? I think there are likely some more heart-pounding moments ahead.

Victory decided she was not inclined to go into the treatment area with the clinic staff (she remembers all those progesterone tests, I'm afraid -- though I did tell her we were only taking pictures today), so I carried her back and into the x-ray room. Tracy offered her a liver treat, but Victory is very intelligent -- and she's a Sheltie (with that Sheltie sense of superiority) -- so she will not be distracted by mere offerings of food when she senses something unpleasant is about to happen. Once it's over, she is more than happy to accept them, of course.

I stayed with her until Sarah arrived to take the x-ray and then retired to the waiting room with Ray and Margaret, where I made nervous conversation while we waited. A few minutes passed, and Tracy brought Victory back to me. "Is she pregnant?" I asked. Tracy smiled. "She's pregnant." "Is there more than one?" "There's more than one . . . and that's all I'm going to say."

Last Monday, when Victory and I visited her, Margaret put her experienced breeder's hands on Victory and said, "I think there's four. She feels like four." So today, when Tracy declined to spill the beans, Margaret said, "I think there's four . . . we should have had a pool!" Clearly a missed opportunity there.

We waited for Dr. Gumley to come and get us; it seemed to take a very long time (time during which I made further nervous conversation and -- as Margaret pointed out -- played musical chairs . . . I just couldn't sit still!).

At long last it was time for the unveiling of the film, and here it is:

The tiny dancers, waiting to take the stage

So there they are! If you count the skulls and spines, you'll see that it looks like we've got a four-dancer troupe, resting up for their debut. How incredibly exciting!

Meanwhile, as her command performance draws nearer, Victory is taking every opportunity she can to cool herself off. Apparently the tiny dancers have turned her into a virtual furnace, so the snowfall late last week was a welcome site to their mama: