If I was in Ezekiel's shoes, I wouldn't know. Not if the dry bones are the nine puppies we're fostering. Not if the dry bones are the church, not if the dry bones are the fragile and front-line folks in our dis-eased world. I don't know which seeds will sprout, which leggy seedlings will transplant and live, which plants will share a harvest.
I planted this garden during Crest Manor's first zoom worship service. I thought the clear vase with dirt would become the most dramatic blooming bulb. Instead that green blade has not arisen. Which of my heartfelt plans and sincere dreams will not bear fruit?
Mabel has 9 puppies and six producing nipples. Two more that might release a little milk, but it might drain more calories from a pup to work away at those than they can gain (same with her vagina, which they often nurse since there aren't enough nipples to go around). We are constantly moving puppies around, rotating in the weakest couple to the best nipples.
We've tried bottle feeding, maybe...20 times? Multiple bottles, nipples, droppers, and a couple kinds of milk replacement. It's nearly useless (we've even tested on the stronger pups - they don't like it either). We may have supplied essential calories to #6 (most vulnerable) a couple days ago when her weight dropped the lowest. Otherwise she sleeps through our attempts. She is latching well on Mabel, but not gaining weight. She nurses longer than the other pups, who can fill their bellies and roll off for a nap. (Yes, we've called all the vets for advice.)