Two hours ago, I found them in the kitchen—the stray dog I had seen around seemed to have given birth. She was carefully carrying her newborn puppies, likely trying to bring them back to her den. To my surprise, the mother dog had given birth under the stove. As I approached, she seemed very nervous, and one of the puppies clung tightly to her, hiding in her arms for comfort. The mother dog was busy cleaning up after her puppies, and a few of them lay completely still, as if they were already sound asleep.

I decided to feed the mother, hoping to earn her trust. It struck me that I must have left the window open last night, and she had likely climbed in that way. I offered her some pieces of pork, using chopsticks to keep a respectful distance, just in case she felt defensive. She approached the food cautiously, testing it before taking any bites. She was wary, hesitating even though she must have been quite hungry. I tried setting the meat on a plate, but she still seemed too anxious to eat it.

Worried for the puppies, I tried to check on them, but the mother quickly stepped in, clearly nervous that I might harm them. As I watched, one of the puppies didn’t seem to move at all. It broke my heart to think that it might not have survived. The mother dog whimpered softly, as if pleading for me to help save her remaining puppies. Finally, I managed to feed her some cat treats, and she began to relax a little around me.

As I continued to reassure her, the mother dog finally ate, and I even managed to pet her gently. I wished I had found them sooner—perhaps I could have saved the little one. The mother’s soft cries were heart-wrenching; she still tried to nudge the lifeless puppy, unable to accept its passing.

I decided to bring the remaining puppy and its mother home with me. I carefully lured the mother out of the den and led her back to my room, making a makeshift bed for her with a stool and a blanket. She quickly seemed to understand my intentions and settled in. The surviving puppy looked very healthy and adorable, snuggling into the blanket beside its mother.

The mother was starving, so I offered her some milk, which she drank eagerly. Not knowing if she would eat cat food, I offered some that I had on hand, and to my relief, she seemed to enjoy it. It was clear that she felt safe here, so I decided to let her stay as long as she needed. Three days later, the puppy had grown noticeably and had started to open its little eyes. For the first time, I took them outside to enjoy the sun. The mother still seemed a bit wary of me, but she let her puppy nurse and watched over it with care.

As the days passed, the mother’s milk supply kept the puppy plump and strong. The little one had a healthy appetite and seemed content, always staying close to its mother. To keep the mother nourished, I fed her treats and even prepared a liver porridge, which she devoured with enthusiasm. After a week, the puppy grew stronger and started nibbling on soft food. Watching it enjoy its first taste was heartwarming, and soon enough, it became fond of little snacks.

Two weeks in, the puppy was learning to walk. It was chubby and full of energy, always exploring and seeming delighted by every small discovery. The mother dog and her puppy had become part of my daily life. With every passing day, I hoped for the puppy to grow happy and healthy. Their bond and resilience had brightened my home, and I felt incredibly lucky to be able to give them a safe place to thrive.