H-LITTER
Mr. Green: Pride & Precious Handpicked By Heaven
Our little green-clad friend will later be called "Willi" and is moving to Burgenland. He's joining a family where two boys are already waiting for him and are excited about their new four-legged friend. If everything goes according to plan, he may later be trained as a rescue dog.
Mr. Blue: Pride & Precious Handsome By Design
Our little blue boy will later be called "Hezekiah" and is the first of my puppies to board a plane. He will live in Canada and, provided his health and temperament are satisfactory, will enrich Rebecca Hartmann's "My Darling" Briard breeding program. He will live with a very dear friend of hers, who will also train him as a service dog. Before that, however, he will stay with us until June and continue his training in Europe, perhaps even appearing at a few shows.
Miss Rot: Pride & Precious Had Me @Hello
Our Miss Red will be moving to Böheimkirchen, where a black Briard bitch is already waiting for her. Her owner has been waiting a long time, as she was originally supposed to get a puppy from my G-litter, but that didn't work out due to health reasons. Instead, "Holly" will now get to turn her life upside down and embark on a sporting adventure with her.
Miss Pink: Pride & Precious History In Black
Ah yes, our little black darling. She's called "Harmony" and has moved in with my beloved Kiona's brother. She was originally supposed to be a puppy from my G-litter, but that didn't work out for health reasons. But now it's happening! And Harmony will be trained as an autism assistance dog!
Weeks 6 & 7 - Outdoor Adventures
The procedure is now always the same:
You dress as if for an expedition to the North Pole. Three layers, two pairs of socks, jacket, scarf, hat – you look like you're about to film a polar bear documentary. The cubs? They're already standing all spruced up at the door, thinking: "Ah, the human's dressed up again. Funny."
The door opens. Four puppies shoot out like confetti at a New Year's Eve party.
The first 10 seconds:
Pure joy of life. Running, jumping, leaping at each other as if they had just discovered that it's outside... OUTSIDE.
Second 11:
The first one stops. Raises a paw. Looks at her as if she had personally insulted him.
Second 15:
The second one takes three steps, sits down abruptly and looks at you with this look:
"Why is the floor damaged?"
Second 20:
The third player bravely tries to continue playing, sliding once elegantly across the frozen grass, looking like a poorly coordinated figure skater without a contract.
And puppy number 4?
He, of course, decided that NOW was the perfect moment to dig a hole. In frozen ground. With the determination of a jackhammer.
You yourself stand there, slowly but surely freezing your existence away, and you shout:
"Come in, it's cold!"
The puppies listen:
"Stay outside and continue to escalate!"
So, let the game begin:
You take a step towards them → all four run in different directions.
You turn around → suddenly they are all standing behind you.
You open the door → nobody comes.
You close the door → suddenly everyone wants to get in at the same time, but of course through the same 10-centimeter gap.
Once inside:
Four half-frozen, completely over-the-top furry rockets that go from "I'm cold" to "I AM IMMORTAL" within 0.3 seconds.
Zoomies.
Over the carpet.
About you.
Against furniture.
Through the water bowl. (Why not?)
And you stand there, slowly pulling off your third wet sock and thinking to yourself:
"That was a short, relaxing stroll in the garden."
10 minutes later:
Everything is quiet again. Everyone is asleep. Peaceful. Angelic.
You finally sit down and take a sip of coffee…
…and you hear that faint sound of little claws on the ground.
You're looking down.
There are four puppies standing there.
Ready for the next round.
Week 5 in the breeder's life – status report:
I'm still alive. Thanks to Gerda, my coffee machine. Without her, I'd probably be part of the furniture by now.
The puppies have decided that sleep is overrated and that the living room should really be an adventure playground with a destruction function. Running, roughhousing, squealing, falling over, getting up again – repeat on an endless loop.
Most of them have now met their puppy parents and discovered:
These people are excellent climbers.
Shoelaces are the final boss.
Every visit is solely because of them.
I myself now move silently, drink coffee in industrial quantities, and say things like:
"No. No! NO!" "Spit that out!" "Please don't step in your brother's shit." "...oh, you know what, never mind."
But when they sit in front of me and look at me with a gaze that says, "You can't be mad at us, because our look melts your heart," then I have to admit they're right. I secretly grumble about it, though, as I pick up one of the little ones, cuddle it, and tell it how incredibly cute it is.
Week 4 - Welcome to the madhouse
Half-time. HALF-TIME. Four weeks with our four-leaf clover and I can officially announce:
We are making progress.
We have voices.
And we have TEETH. Many, noticeable teeth, used with enthusiasm.
The cute, softly squeaking little creatures have transformed in no time into four fearless mini-velociraptors. They don't walk, they shoot. They don't play, they fight for world domination. And they don't bite tentatively, they test my body for material fatigue.
Speaking of fearless:
These puppies have no instinct for self-preservation.
Aunt Kehlani was met and inspected with the matter-of-factness of a moderately well-mannered tourist.
And then… Loki the cat.
Big. Cat. Looks like a final boss.
The puppies' reaction:
"Oh."
Tapstap tap
"What are you?"
No respect. No fear. Just genuine interest.
It's clear: they simply don't yet know that cats carry weapons. And they're losing patience.
The voices have become legendary.
Each puppy has its own tone of voice, volume, and talent for drama.
Puppy A is constantly reporting danger to life.
Puppy B comments on everything. Everything.
Puppy C cries on principle.
Puppy D sings laments because someone is breathing.
And me?
I'm right in the middle of it.
With scratched hands, chewed fingers, slightly hysterical laughter, and one puppy about to kill my sock while another tries to bark in my ear.
Conclusion Week 4:
I am devastated.
I have no privacy anymore.
I'm about to declare my living room a madhouse for the fluff-obsessed.
And I laugh until I cry every single day because these four little chaos monsters are simply perfect.
Week 3 with our H-babies
The puppies had their first taste of baby mouse. I deliberately don't say "ate," but rather "ritualistically smeared" it. Within three seconds, it looked as if someone had detonated an explosion of meaty mush, milk teeth, and pure joy. One had both front paws INSIDE the bowl, another was trying to eat his sibling's head (misidentification, it happens), and number four was simply lying in the middle of it, making the most contented grunting noises.
I said nothing. I just nodded. You learn humility in moments like these.
At the same time, voices are being researched.
Not speech. No. Sounds.
They're actively testing what sounds they can make. Squeaking? Yes. Creaking? Yes, too. A noise that sounds like a broken garden gate in mortal fear? Absolutely. One of them barked today. Very briefly. He was so startled himself that he fell over backward. Progress isn't always elegant.
But the biggest change is:
They are no longer drunken baby triceratops; we have completed that phase. They have now mutated into small, agile velociraptors.
They have legs. And they know it. They run, they don't stop in time.
When you sit on the ground, you become part of the ecosystem. Today I was mounted three times, nibbled on twice, and deliberately urinated on once while someone looked me straight in the eye. Dominance. Plain and simple.
The adults also apparently negotiated some kind of shift schedule. Quietly. Without a contract. But very clearly.
Mama Aletheia is still the dominant figure. She enters the puppy area with the calm of a queen who knows everything is under control, even if a puppy is upside down in the food bowl. She nurses, she cleans, she trains. And she looks at me as if to say, "I've got this under control. But please clean that up."
New to the team: Grandma Khaleesi.
Grandmother. Babysitter. Security service.
Aletheia is clearly taking advantage of this new division of labor. She takes breaks, observes from the sidelines, and even lets Khaleesi do some of the training. And the puppies? They accept it without comment. I, on the other hand, stand by, armed with cleaning rags and existential questions, and realize: These dogs have their lives more under control than I have my own.
I smell like puppy, baby mouse, and existential crisis.
But when they look at me, with those slightly cross-eyed, serious mini-raptor looks, I know:
I would do everything exactly the same way again.
Week 2 - an argument with my dear Gerda
Our second week started with an argument between me and my beloved Gerda, who briefly decided to tune out and do absolutely nothing. "Okay, let her sleep on it," I thought, "tomorrow things will look completely different." Well, I could have really used her support that very night.
"My beloved Gerda, I didn't mean it like that yesterday, honestly," I told her this morning, but she just screamed at me. The whole time. You can't have a normal discussion with her. So, from "Please, my darling, just do me this one favor" to "If you don't do what I want right now, I'll replace you with a newer, better model," it took exactly half an hour. Anyway, I apologized again, she apologized too, and now our relationship is working again.
But it wasn't just the argument between Gerda and me; the babies have really grown. From little seals, they've now developed into four little baby triceratops, who apparently had a bit too much to drink at the New Year's Eve party. I don't mean to imply they're not taking walking seriously, but it still looks very wobbly at the moment. Then they stop and look at me with a look that says, "Believe us, we've got this completely under control. We just need to take a break sometimes."
Ah yes, the first attempts at barking are underway. Four tiny mini-speakers trying to announce their existence to the world. Right now, it sounds more like a broken mixtape of "meow," "beep," and "Oh my goodness, who turned on the light?" Every bark attempt is guaranteed to end with a head nod in my direction, as if they're saying, "Did you hear that? I think that was a real bark!"
The H-litter is pure comedy and I love every tiny, wobbly, barking, self-scaring moment.
H is for "If only you had said no"
It's the middle of the night. Night lies like a cloak over the world, giving free rein to its imagination in people's dreams. To dream, one must be asleep. I wasn't. And neither, of course, was the H-litter – affectionately known as H for Hellish Noise, Hyperactive, and Haven't-we-demanded-enough-of-you?
I learned absolutely nothing from the G-litter. I naively thought, "Oh, next time you'll be experienced. Relaxed. Confident." HAHAHAHA. No.
I'm not just exhausted anymore, no, THAT would be a rookie mistake, I'm professionally confused. My body doesn't know if it's night or day. My brain is just full of autocorrect errors. If someone asks me how many puppies there are, I answer, "Yes." I even wished the postman goodnight the other day—it was only 10:30 a.m.
I'm sitting again in my bathrobe (which is now more puppy milk than fabric), armed with a flashlight and wet wipes. I'm sorting puppies like socks: "You ate. You ate. You cried even though you ate. And you... you're just loud."
Of course, silence is suspicious this time too. Silence means:
A) Someone is stuck
B) Someone is wrong
C) Someone is planning emotional terror
D) All at once
You all surely remember Gerda, right? Gerda, my coffee machine, is still here. But now I think she's more than just my coffee machine; she's more like my constant companion. I'd even go so far as to say she's my soulmate.
Our relationship has deepened, I talk to her a lot. Sentences like: "Gerda, please... just one more cup..." Gerda is rather quiet, but always does what I want her to.
During the day, everything blurs together. I google things like: "Why does my puppy yell at me personally?" "Can you catch up on sleep or is it gone forever?" "When does a coffee machine become a member of the family?"
Conclusion:
I'm tired.
I am no longer liable in terms of caffeine.
I knew better, and yet I still said yes.
And somewhere between puppy milk, bathrobe and Gerda I know: When the next litter comes, I'll call it I – as in "I need help".
Our Christmas Miracle
From Tasco's pride and Aletheia's truth,
A dream grew quietly, so wonderful.
Quiet in the evening, gentle on Christmas Eve,
at
December 24th, on holy night.
The world lay still, the snow fell softly,
the first hint of winter white.
As snowflakes danced, softly and gently,
Four little souls were brought.
Eyes still closed, in newborn state,
enveloped in silence, delicate and pure.
Two fawn-colored boys, warm and light,
like candlelight breaking in the darkness.
A fawn-colored girl, gentle and mild,
Kissed by snow, a Christmas sign.
A black girl, deep and clear,
Like midnight with a pair of stars.
A promise of snow, quiet, new —
A Christmas miracle, faithful and shy.
Born in the quiet time,
a wonder full of eternity.
We are looking forward to our H-litter at Christmas 2025!
The ultrasound on November 24th confirmed what we've been eagerly awaiting! Tasco and Aletheia's date on October 24th & 25th, 2025, has borne fruit, and we can (hopefully) look forward to little Christmas babies!
That I Aletheias Since her heat cycle was delayed, our H-litter will arrive earlier than expected! We anticipate her heat cycle in October/November 2025 and hope for puppies in December/January. She was [unclear] in her first litter. (F-litterShe was a truly exemplary mother and was back to her old self within three months of giving birth to her puppies. Inquiries are welcome now; this will likely be Aletheia's last litter!
What's more, we have double the reason to be happy, because for the first time, after almost 10 years of breeding, we can look forward not only to puppies in fawn but also in black!
