I realize this morning that I haven't heard my dog for a while. I go outside.

"Squeak!"

No response.

I notice that the door downstairs is closed. Usually I leave the door open so that I don't accidentally forget he's inside. Zhuoma seems to have closed it when moving some things from what was previously her shop back to the house.

"Uh oh," I think, "he's starved to death in there."

I push open the door and call out some more. Still no repsonse.

So I go back upstairs to get my flashlight, to search for the dead body. Back downstairs. Not under the distillery barrels. Not under the pile of wood. Wait. I hear a kind of snuffling snorting noise, way in the back. I make my way back there and OH MY GOD MY DOG IS BEING EATEN ALIVE BY RATS!

No wait. He seems fine.

Are those babies? What's going on here, is he taking care of them because the mom ran off? Wait. They're suckling.

"What's going on here," I'm thinking, confused.

I eventually conclude that my obviously male, sometimes visibly turgid dog has given birth to puppies.

An update