We settled into a house that had previously been owned by a man who had passed away, and a dog visited us daily. One day, I decided to follow it

When Maggie moves into a new home with her son, Ethan, and husband, Kyle, she’s thrilled. She hopes this change will help Ethan feel better after being bullied. Her biggest wish is to see Ethan smile again. One day, a stray husky appears in their yard, eating food and becoming friends with Ethan.

The husky soon leads them into the woods, ready to reveal a surprise.

On the first day in our new house, I felt thrilled. This move was a fresh start for our family. Kyle and I wanted to help our son, Ethan, after his difficult experiences at school. He had been bullied, and we hoped this would be a chance to leave that behind.

The previous owner was an old man named Christopher, who had passed away recently. His daughter, Tracy, in her forties, sold it to us. She said it was too sad to keep and hadn’t lived there since he died.

“There are so many memories here,” she said as we walked through the house. “I just want a family who will love it like we did.”

“I understand, Tracy,” I assured her. “We’ll make this our forever home.”

As we unpacked, something strange happened right away. Each morning, an old husky showed up at our door. He had graying fur and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right into you.

He didn’t bark or make a fuss. He just sat there, waiting. We fed and gave him water, assuming he was a neighbor’s pet. After eating, he would wander off like it was part of his routine.

“Mom, do you think his owners don’t feed him enough?” Ethan asked one day as we bought food for him and the husky.

“I’m not sure, E,” I said. “Maybe the old man here used to feed him, and he’s used to it?”

“Yeah, that sounds right!” Ethan said, tossing dog treats into our cart.

We didn’t think much about it. Kyle and I had thought about getting Ethan a dog, but only after he adjusted to his new school.

The husky returned every day, always at the same time, sitting on the porch like he belonged there.

It felt as if this husky wasn’t just any stray. He seemed like he belonged in the house, like we were only visitors. We didn’t think too much about it.

Ethan loved it! He spent hours playing with the husky, throwing sticks, or just sitting on the porch, talking to him as if they were best friends.

I watched them from the kitchen window, smiling. Ethan seemed happier, just what he needed after his troubles at school.

One morning, Ethan noticed something on the dog’s collar while petting him.

“Mom, there’s a name here!” he called excitedly.

I hurried over and brushed away fur covering the worn collar. The name was faint but readable: Christopher Jr.

My heart skipped.

Could it be? Christopher, like the man who owned our house? Could this husky really be his dog? Tracy hadn’t mentioned a dog.

“Do you think he’s here because it was his home?” Ethan asked, looking amazed.

I shrugged, feeling uneasy. “Maybe, sweetie. It’s hard to say.”

Still, the husky didn’t seem like any stray. He acted like he belonged here, like we were the ones who didn’t fit. We let it go.

That day, after eating, Christopher Jr. acted differently.

He whined softly and paced at the yard’s edge, looking toward the woods. This was new. It seemed like he wanted us to follow.

“Mom, I think he wants us to come with him!” Ethan said, putting on his jacket excitedly.

I hesitated. “Honey, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“Please, Mom! I’ll text Dad. We have to see where he’s going.”

I was curious, and the dog’s urgency made me think it was more than just a walk.

So, we followed him.

The husky led the way, glancing back to check on us. The air was crisp, and the woods were silent, except for the crunch of twigs underfoot.

“You’re sure about this?” I asked Ethan.

“Yes!” he replied, his eyes bright. “Dad has our location, don’t worry!”

We walked about twenty minutes, deeper into the forest. I was about to suggest turning back when the husky stopped in a small clearing.

Then I saw it.

A pregnant fox lay trapped in a hunter’s snare, barely moving.

“Oh my,” I whispered, hurrying over.

The fox was weak, breathing shallowly, her fur dirty. The trap had dug into her leg, and she trembled in pain.

“Mom, we have to help her!” Ethan said, his voice shaking.

“I know,” I replied, my hands shaking as I tried to free her. The husky stood close, whining softly, as if he understood.

After what seemed forever, I loosened the trap. The fox lay still, panting.

“We need to take her to the vet, E,” I said, calling Kyle.

Kyle arrived, and we wrapped the fox in a blanket. The husky came along, too.

It seemed like he wouldn’t leave her side.

At the vet, they said the fox needed surgery. We waited in a small, sterile room. Ethan sat with his hands on the husky’s thick fur, looking worried.

“Mom, do you think she’ll make it?”

“I hope so, honey,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s strong, and we did all we could.”

The surgery worked! But when the fox woke up, she howled, her cries filling the clinic.

The vet and Kyle tried to calm her. When I entered, she suddenly quieted. She looked at me and let out a soft whimper before relaxing.

“It’s like she knows you saved her,” the vet said.

Two days later, we took her home. We made a cozy spot in the garage for her to rest. CJ, as Ethan named the husky, stayed close to Vixen, the fox.

Soon after, Vixen gave birth to four tiny kits. It was magical, and she let me watch.

“She only lets us near her babies,” Ethan told me one day as we checked on them. “She trusts us.”

I nodded, smiling.

“And the dog too,” I added. “CJ seems at home with us.”

When the kits were old enough, we built a den in the forest and watched as Vixen took her young there.

Now, every weekend, Ethan, CJ, and I walk to the woods to visit. Vixen always greets us, her kits following her, curious as ever.

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