Somebody messaged me asking what “protocol” I use for my puppies and I actually laughed a little because at that exact moment I was sitting on the floor beside the whelping box in old sweatpants with goat milk dried on my sleeve, one sock half on, hair looking like I had been electrocuted by the Lord Himself, trying to drink coffee that had already gone cold twice while a tiny black puppy was army-crawling directly into the water bowl like he had urgent business there. 😭😆

Meanwhile Chianti was stretched out flat on her side completely exhausted panting regualting hormones but still watching every movement I made with that look mothers have where they somehow appear both half-dead and fully alert at the same time, the heating pad humming softly beneath the blankets, laundry running somewhere in the background, windows cracked because Tennessee weather apparently cannot decide whether it wants to be spring, summer, or biblical judgment this week, and puppies squeaking every few seconds like tiny malfunctioning dog toys.

And in the middle of all that somebody wanted to know my protocol.

The funny thing is I think modern people hear that word and imagine binders, charts, trademarked systems, color-coded schedules, fifteen supplements lined up like a tiny military operation, somebody standing there in expensive scrubs pretending they have conquered biology through organization.

Meanwhile most of breeding honestly feels more like trying to remember what life looked like before humans started covering every square inch of existence in fluorescent lighting, disinfectant fumes, nervous system chaos, WiFi signals, processed food, noise, synthetic fragrances, panic, and endless attempts to outsmart systems we barely even understand anymore.

So no, I do not have some magical proprietary “terrain protocol” packaged up with a fancy logo and a monthly subscription fee. 😆

Truthfully most of what I do revolves around one question that keeps circling in my head every single litter:

“What parts of real life can I still give these puppies before the modern world gets its hands on them?”

I’m not out here trying to cosplay nineteenth-century mountain villagers raising puppies by candlelight while barefoot beside a goat pen and wolves provide the evening soundtrack from somewhere in the hills. 😭😆

I’m not whelping puppies outside on dirt during thunderstorms trying to prove how “natural” I am to strangers on the internet.

The puppies are born safely inside a whelping box because wisdom matters too. Warmth matters. Observation matters. Stewardship matters. If one gets chilled at three in the morning nature is not sending me a gold star for authenticity while the puppy crashes.

But I do think their biology remembers things modern life forgot.

So the whelping area stays near windows because light matters in ways people are only beginning to understand again. I open the windows constantly for fresh air even while the air conditioner is running because stale indoor air feels wrong to me in my bones. Sunshine comes in early in tiny amounts starting around day two, carefully because black puppies absorb heat differently and I’m not trying to cook them like little rotisserie chickens out there. 😭

Fresh grass gets brought inside sometimes still cool from morning dew. Rose petals. Natural textures. Dirt. Different smells. Different temperatures. Tiny nervous systems touching things that don’t come from a factory.

And yes,,, the grass outside isn’t sprayed because apparently I became the kind of person who grows her own roses now instead of buying those suspiciously perfect store flowers that somehow smell like absolutely nothing. 😭😆

Funny how modern flowers look prettier than ever while simultaneously feeling emotionally unavailable.

During summer I make hydrosols from herbs and flowers growing here because honestly I trust plants I can see, smell, harvest, and understand a whole lot more than blindly dumping heavily concentrated oils everywhere from companies I know nothing about.

Not anti-essential oil.
Just pro-remembering what actual living plants smell like. 😭

Somewhere along the way humans got so disconnected from real environments that touching grass became a wellness trend instead of just… life.

There’s something almost sad about how radical that sounds now.

A hundred years ago nobody would have called sunshine a protocol.

Now people discuss touching grass like it’s an alternative therapy. 😭😆

I use ENS ideas because mild stress and neurological stimulation absolutely matter, but sometimes I think people reduce development into little checklists while forgetting the body is listening to everything all the time anyway.

The nervous system listens to tension in a room.

Hormones listen to light.

The microbiome listens to environment.

Mothers regulate babies long before science invents vocabulary for it.

Half the things old farmers, old breeders, old horsemen, old shepherds, and old grandmothers knew instinctively are now being rediscovered through million-dollar research grants with very complicated PowerPoint presentations. 😭

Long before circadian biology became a field of study, people understood the importance of sunlight. Before developmental neuroscience had a name, mothers were already regulating babies through touch, rhythm, closeness, and presence. Long before anyone started mapping the microbiome, breeders, shepherds, farmers, and grandmothers were paying attention to feeding.

Different vocabulary.
Same organism.

Honestly the older I get the less interested I become in pretending humans invented life.

Fresh air does not belong to corporations. Earth was never meant to carry a trademark symbol. Circadian rhythm existed long before modern industries figured out how to monetize dysfunction, and there is something deeply strange about removing organisms from the very conditions they were designed around only to stand there confused when nervous systems, hormones, digestion, immunity, and behavior begin unraveling under the pressure of modern life.

And maybe that’s the strange tension sitting underneath breeding now.

Somehow modern life keeps expecting vibrant immune systems to emerge from fluorescent lighting, resilient digestion to develop on ultra-processed pellets, and emotionally stable nervous systems to form while completely disconnected from sunlight, weather, earth, microbial diversity, challenge, variation, rhythm, and the very environmental inputs biology evolved alongside for thousands of years.

We keep trying to separate organisms from the conditions that built the organism in the first place.

Then everybody acts confused when things start falling apart.

Somewhere around four this morning while listening to puppies nursing, hearing dogs moving softly through the hallway, smelling clean blankets mixed with milk and that weird warm puppy smell that somehow manages to smell both ancient and completely new at the same time, I realized most of what I’m doing is not creating life.

I’m mostly just trying not to interrupt it too much. ❤️🐾❤️