Ms Too did not call.  I presumed that the bitch had given birth naturally. It was time to enjoy my water cress with pork rib soup and pay attention to my date who was patient enough to accept my sudden departures to attend to veterinary emergencies. Ms Too was the owner of a successful pet shop and Sunday evenings were busy times. Customers preferred to be served by her.  Her bitch was kept in the shop next door and monitored by her assistant.  The clear Water of Life continued to cascade while the Ms Too was busy fielding queries on the temperament of the puppies by prospective puppy buyers.  I completed my dinner in a restaurant near my Surgery. One hour had passed now. Generally, Miniature Schnauzers don't need emergency Caesarean deliveries.  Ms Too should have phoned me as I had dined near my Surgery just in case she needed my help. I phoned Ms Too.  She said,  "No puppy, but the bitch is passing blood-tinged water." A bloody discharge from a pregnant bitch was a bad omen. Was it too late to save the first pup? I estimated that she would take 15 minutes to arrive if she sped along the expressway in her BMW Z4 Convertible Sports Car from Changi.  Most probably, the first pup would not be saved by an emergency Caesarean. Yet, a hope that the puppy would be alive sprang eternally from my heart. However, there were five more. Ms Too had taken an X-ray earlier to check on the number of pups inside the womb. That was her S.O.P. (standard operating procedure).  "Leave your pet shop immediately for the Surgery," I instructed, tearing her away from the web of making money. This was one of those good Sundays. She had sold ten puppies.  "The mother may die if you procrastinate." The dam was more important to Ms Too than the offspring if she had to choose.  This Schnauzer could interpret her commands and welcome her from a hard day's work. When I said that her dam might die, she understood the gravity of the situation and left the shop immediately.   At the Surgery, I could see that all the bitch's eye whites were covered by wavy, deep red blood vessels.  As if she had high fever or high blood pressure. Would she die under general anaesthesia now?  The reddish brownish vaginal discharge trickled onto the groove formed by two halves of the veterinary operating table and drained into the pail at one end.  How fast could I operate on her without endangering her life?  Should I use the 8% anaesthetic gas or the usual 5%. What if she died of heart attack on the operating table if I used the higher dosage?  She was a high risk patient. She had blood shot eyes, an uncommon finding in the  bitch undergoing Caesarean section. Yet, the lower dose would take sometime to knock her down. Time is of the essence. I opted for the 8% gas given by anaesthetic mask.  She slept in less than 1 minute. Still, it took a few minutes to get to the first pup. There was no hope. I extracted a dead puppy drowned in the amniotic sac.   His placenta wrapped around his neck and the umbilical cord was disconnected. Her life support via the umbilical cord to the mother had been cut off.  Ms Too took over the still-born with the pale tongue and put him aside.  She had suffered a loss of two thousand dollars, but she was not saying anything.  She was as quiet as a mouse as she wiped the mucus off the bodies of the other five  puppies with tissue papers.  The puppies wriggled as I tore open the water bag (amniotic sac) protecting them, clamped and cut their umbilical cords, disconnecting them from the vital blood supply of the mother's placenta. No loud cries, but they would survive. Fully developed puppies with a thick coat of black and silver hairs.    Ms Too's puppies were of champion show dog quality. So she could command a premium price of two thousand dollars per puppy instead of $1,000.  She had queues waiting to buy her puppies.

When the Water of Life flew out copiously and there was no puppy born, Ms Too should have rushed to the Veterinary Surgery for an emergency Caesarean delivery.  Making money was important but there must be a balance in life.  I could have insisted on her taking immediate action to leave the customers. But breeders do misconstrue that I want to make money out of them.  Therefore, I leave this decision to them. The breeder learns from  puppy deaths and subsequent financial loss. In this case, all 6 pups would have died if she continued making money for two more hours.  The mother could be dead if she waited till past midnight.  Now, the 5 puppies were vigorous and suckling.   Ms Too went out of the Surgery and lit a cigarette.  The blue wisping smoke at the corner of her mouth formed circles in the still evening air.  She chained smoked despite a recent spate of heart attacks. A woman who had various businesses to attend to besides the pet shop and breeding operations.  A high energetic human version of the Jack Russell dog. Ms Too puffed furiously needing the nicotine to keep her awake and to de-stress herself. I went to her right side. I flicked away the cigarette held lightly between her yellow-stained right index and third her finger.  "You should stop smoking," I emphasized. "Your heart attacks caused you pain and immediate hospitalisation. They would would come back again if you continue smoking."  Under the shadows of the orange street lamps, she still commanded attention even though she was forty years old.  Tall, perfectly groomed and well dressed. An ex-beauty queen who would never compromised on deportment and good dress sense.  I was sure she had broken several men's hearts in her younger days. A man-killer if there was such a term. A femme fatale. A siren. She could have married a very rich man and well, she did not need to work at all. Be a tai tai (rich man's wife) going on shopping sprees buying the latest fashion dress. Feminists would kill me if I propagate such outdated thinking.  In any case, Ms Too was rich due to her hard work and intelligent investment in properties and businesses. Ms Too looked at me for interrupting her enjoyment. She fished out another Marlboro cigarette from her pack in her violet Gucci hand bag. She explained, "I had to close a sale and therefore could not phone you.  As you had said previously, we breeders learn from experience (from deaths of puppies)." Do we really learn from experiences of deaths?  I was thinking whether her heart attacks were the tsunamis which so far had not overwhelmed this dynamo.  She had suffered at least three heart attacks recently. Intense chest pains in the middle of the night. Immediate hospitalisation. Yet here she was, chain-smoking against medical advice and being stressed by her various business start ups and operations.  I guessed that the quality of life was important for Ms Too and cigarettes were her main source of pleasure. A short but enjoyable life in the fast lane. It could be a long life if she heeded the health warnings and could quit smoking.  I always feel a wave of sadness whenever I meet Ms Too. Such an intelligent, high energy and beautiful woman.  Passers-by never failed to give her a second look as she matured even more attractive with time.   To me, it was a pity that such an intelligent woman would not heed her health warning quakes spreading from her heart during heart attacks.  When the waves of heart attack receded exposing fishes struggling in an exposed sea bed, she ventured out from the beach (by chain smoking) to see the tsunamis of death returning from the ocean.  So far, she had escaped at least three such tsunamis emitting from her heart.  I thought one was more than enough pain for her. She must think that she was invincible. Just as she was immune to the charms and the money of very wealthy men who wanted to marry her.   We parted company as her customers were waiting for her at the pet shop.  The next day, in the afternoon, I received a phone call from her assistant, "One puppy is bleeding profusely."  The Blood of Life was flowing out of the puppy's mouth in copious amounts. The Blood of Life ....to be continued.