Operation: Puppy Rescue

So, yeah. Pashmina had her puppies on Thursday. Roy discovered this just before he left for work at about 11am. In response to this news, I rushed home to retrieve them from their position SMACK DAB UNDERNEATH THE MIDDLE OF THE SHED. Why oh why did you have to birth your little pupplets under the shed, Pashmina?? Knowing Fizzgig would interfere, I prepped myself by covering my work clothes with my long bathrobe, heels intact. I then layed down on my stomach with a flashlight and observed the situation...or rather predicament, Pashmina had gotten herself into.
Her puppies were unreachable. And a freeze was coming. As I lay in the grass with my face jammed up against the bottom of the shed, Fizzgig leaped back and forth over my butt and even tried standing on me. The nerve. It wasn't until Roy arrived home from work, well after dark, that we were finally able to extract the little ones from what might have proved to be their final chilly resting place had we not intervened. And what did we do? Well, truthfully we didn't know WHAT to do, so we set about doing things that weren't really getting us anywhere. Such as...placing the car jack under the shed and jacking the shed up high enough to slip my entire arm underneath. BUT...without the assistance of the retractable "GO-GO-Gadget" arms...I was shit out of luck. crankcrankcrank. The shed went up a bit further. crankcrankcrank. And a little bit more.
Suddenly Roy was shouting...GRAB A BRICK! GRAB A BRICK! ITS SLIDING OFF THE JACK!
And I was scrambling around trying to lift a big brick from the backporch area and race back over to the shed and basically 45 minutes later....the puppies were still under the shed. So Roy adjusted the jack. And crankcrankcrank it went. But, dear reader, do you think that I WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO SLIDE MY UPPER TORSO UNDERNEATH THE SHED?
So...without longer arms...we were still unable to reach the puppies no matter HOW far he jacked up that shed. Our next thought was...we need something...ANYTHING...to reach them. And I believe it was at this point that I tried, yet again, to poke them out using a plastic samurai sword and the dust pan. But newborn puppies are really roly-poly and it just wasnt working. Did I mention that it was FREAKING COLD OUTSIDE? So we opened the shed and tralala! A chorus of angels burst into a high C note and we were momentarily blinded by a radiating heavenly light that burst forth and revealed to Roy, the answer to his prayers. Oh Holy Light, we thank thee. While I thought that God was pointing out the huge puppy skull crushing shovel, Roy was enlightened with the sight of Cristian's butterfly net. Now first of all...how did that butterfly net EVER make it past my cleaning efforts because seriously...I throw crap like that away all the time. For instance, the samurai sword, after failing as a puppy-roller-outer, was subsequently dropped unceremoniously into the dumpster. You may now commence with the dusting off of the hands.
But lo, the net lay unbidden in the night. Flapping gently in the chilly wind. And then the simultaneous thought of...EUREEKA! And THAT, dear reader, was how I scooped the puppies out one by one and removed them to the warmth of the laundry room. There are 4 boys and 1 girl, 3 brown and 1 black. Cristian already conned his gramps into agreeing to keep the black one and named him Wickett, in honor of the great Wickett W. Ewok.
And the butterfly net has been granted a reprieve...