When Patch was a single girl, one of her best pals was a big black mutt (who we creatively call Black Dog or Blackie). They ran around the neighborhood together and got pregnant at around the same time. Patch had her puppies here (the rest is history) while Blackie had her puppies at a neighbor's house. Patch and Blackie each went to visit each other's puppies, but since Patch is in our yard all the time while Blackie still roams free, they're not as close as they used to be. Blackie comes to visit us at least once a day to get some loving and a dog biscuit, but we haven't been feeding her or looking after her (since we already have our hands full in the dog department).
We had Patch spayed as soon as our pups were weaned, but no one did Blackie the same favor, and last week Mr. P. remarked that Blackie is pregnant again. About five minutes ago, he called me out to our storage shed, handed me a flashlight, and told me to look and listen. Blackie was under the shed with at least one crying puppy. How on earth such a big dog got under there is a mystery to me. When I spoke to her, she wagged her tail, and when we put food and water out for her, she crawled out, ate and drank voraciously, and returned to her litter.
As Mr. P. said, "What the **** do we do now?"