Maddie had her quincienra. The Gori family came to dinner. And Blackie labored all day with undiagnosed dystocia. FINALLY, at 11:30 on a Saturday night during March Maddness, I got my head out of my own butt and called the vet. THE VET WAS STUPENDOUSLY TALENTED AND GOOD. She pulled 3 kids. First: breach. Second: dead breach---actually transverse in utero. Third: normal presentation, a doe.

Alls well that ends well. But poor Blackie. All day my intuition said something was not right. That was correct. Something was not right. She never could have delivered them. I never could have sorted them out, in utero, by myself. WE NEEDED the vet.

Whew!