The house had belonged to an older man named Christopher, who had passed away recently. His daughter, Tracy, a woman in her forties, sold it to us. She told us that it was simply too painful to keep and that she hadn’t even lived in it since her father’s death.
“There are too many memories in there, you know?” she told me when we first met to walk through the house. “And I don’t want it to get into the wrong hands. I want it to be a home to a family who will love it as much as my family did.”
“I know exactly what you mean, Tracy,” I said reassuringly. “We’ll make this house into our forever home.”
We were eager to settle in, but from the very first day, something strange happened. Every morning, a husky would show up at our front door. He was an old dog, with graying fur and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you. The sweet boy didn’t bark or make a fuss; he would just sit there, waiting. Of course, we gave him some food and water, figuring that he belonged to a neighbor. After eating, he’d wander off as if it were just part of a routine.
“Do you think his owners just don’t feed him enough, Mom?” Ethan asked one day when we were at the grocery store, getting our weekly groceries and some extra food for the husky.
“I don’t know, E,” I said. “Maybe the old man who lived in our house fed him, so it’s part of his routine?”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Ethan said, adding some dog treats to our cart.
At first, we didn’t think much of it. Kyle and I wanted to get Ethan a dog, but we planned to wait until he was settled at his new school. But then, the husky came the next day, and the day after that. Always at the same time, always sitting patiently by the porch. It felt like he wasn’t just any stray; he acted like he belonged here, and we were just temporary guests in his home.
Ethan was over the moon. I could see my son was slowly falling in love with him. He spent as much time as he could running around with the dog, tossing sticks, or sitting on the porch talking to him like they’d known each other forever. I would watch from the kitchen window, smiling at the bond they shared. It was exactly what Ethan needed after everything he had been through.
One morning, while petting him, Ethan’s fingers traced the dog’s collar. “Mom, there’s a name here!” he called out.
I knelt down next to the dog, brushing away the fur covering the worn leather collar. The name was barely visible, but there it was: Christopher Jr.
My heart skipped a beat. Was it just a coincidence? Christopher, just like the man who had owned our house? Could this husky have been his dog? Tracy hadn’t mentioned anything about a dog.
“Do you think he’s been coming here because it used to be his home?” Ethan asked.
I shrugged, feeling a little unsettled. “Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard to say.”
Later that day, after Christopher Jr. had eaten, he began to act strange. He whined softly, pacing back and forth near the edge of the yard, his eyes darting toward the woods. He had never done that before. It was almost like he was asking us to follow him.
“Mom, I think he wants us to go with him!” Ethan said excitedly. I hesitated, but Ethan insisted we follow. We grabbed our phones, and he texted Kyle so he would know where we were.
The husky led the way, glancing back to make sure we were still there. We walked for about twenty minutes, deeper into the forest than I’d ever been. Just as I was about to suggest turning back, the husky stopped abruptly at a small clearing.
There, I saw it: a pregnant fox, trapped in a hunter’s snare. She was weak, her breathing shallow, and the trap had dug deep into her leg.
“Mom, we’ve got to help her!” Ethan said, his voice shaking.
I managed to loosen the cruel trap after what felt like an eternity. We called Kyle, who arrived with a blanket, and we rushed her to the vet. The husky, of course, came with us. He wasn’t going to leave her.
The vet said she needed surgery. We waited nervously until it was over. When the fox woke up, she was howling, her cries echoing through the clinic. The vet couldn’t calm her, but when I walked into the room, she stopped. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she let out a soft whimper.
“It’s like she knows you helped her,” the vet said.
We brought her home two days later and set her up in a den in our garage to recover. CJ, as Ethan now called the husky, stayed with “Vixen” the entire time. A few days later, she gave birth to four tiny kits. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. She only let us and CJ near her babies. She trusted us.
When the babies were old enough, we knew it was time to let them go. We built a proper den back in the forest and watched as Vixen disappeared into it with her kits. Now, every weekend, Ethan, CJ, and I walk to the forest to visit them. The fox always comes out to greet us, her kits trailing behind her, just as curious as ever.
