When Maggie moves into a new house with her son Ethan and her husband Kyle, she is more than ready for a fresh start. Her son needs a change of environment, and Maggie just wants him to be happy. But one day, a husky wanders into their yard, eats their food, and grows attached to Ethan. Soon after, the husky leads Maggie and Ethan into the woods, determined to show them something devastating…
When we moved into our new home, I had a good feeling about it. It was a new chapter in our lives, and I was more than ready. My husband, Kyle, and I were excited to give our son, Ethan, a fresh start. He had recently been bullied at school, and we all wanted to move on.
The house had belonged to an elderly man named Christopher, who had recently passed away. His daughter, a woman in her forties, sold it to us, explaining that it held too many memories and that she hadn’t lived there since her father’s death.
“There are just too many memories here,” she told me when we toured the house together. “And I don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. I want it to be a home for a family who will love it as much as mine did.”
“I know exactly what you mean, Tracy,” I reassured her. “We will make this house our home.”
We were eager to settle in, but from the very first day, something strange happened. Every morning, a husky showed up at our front door. It was an old dog, with graying fur and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you.
The gentle dog never barked or made a fuss. He simply sat there, waiting. Naturally, we gave him food and water, assuming he belonged to a neighbor. After eating, he would walk away.
“Do you think his owners aren’t feeding him enough, Mom?” Ethan asked one day while we were at the grocery store, picking up our weekly supplies—and some dog food for the husky, too.
“I don’t know, E,” I replied. “Maybe the old man who lived in our house used to feed him, and that’s why he keeps coming back?”
“That makes sense,” Ethan said, tossing a pack of dog treats into our cart.
At first, we didn’t think much of it. Kyle and I had planned to get Ethan a dog—we just wanted to wait until he was settled in his new school.
But the husky came back the next day. And the day after that. Always at the same time, always sitting patiently near the porch.
It felt as though the husky believed he belonged here. As if we were just temporary guests in his home. It was strange, but we didn’t dwell on it.
Ethan, on the other hand, was overjoyed. And I knew my son was slowly falling in love with the husky. He spent as much time as possible playing with the dog—running with him, throwing sticks, or simply sitting under the porch, talking to him as if they had always known each other.
I watched from the kitchen window, smiling.
This was exactly what Ethan needed after everything he had been through at his old school.
One morning, as he was petting the husky, Ethan made a discovery.
“Mom, there’s a name here!” he shouted.
I walked over and knelt beside the dog, brushing away part of his thick fur to reveal an old, worn leather collar. The name was barely visible, but it was there:
Christopher Jr.
My heart pounded.
Was this just a coincidence?
Christopher—just like the man who had owned our house? Could this husky have been his dog? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Tracy had never mentioned a dog.
“Do you think he keeps coming back because this used to be his home?” Ethan asked.
I shrugged, feeling unsettled.
“Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard to say.”
At the same time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the husky acted as though he belonged here. As if we were merely passing through his home. It was strange, but we still didn’t think much of it.
Later that day, after eating, Christopher Jr. started acting strangely.
He whimpered softly, pacing near the edge of the yard, his eyes darting toward the woods. He had never done this before. But now, it was as if he was asking us to follow him.
The dog stopped and stared straight ahead, and that’s when I saw it.
“Mom, I think he wants us to come with him!” Ethan said excitedly.
I hesitated.
“Sweetheart, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”
“Come on, Mom!” Ethan pleaded. “We have to see where he’s going and what’s happening. We’ll take our phones, and I’ll text Dad to let him know. Please?”
I wasn’t eager to go, but I was curious. Something told me this was more than just a random walk in the woods.
So, we followed.
Christopher Jr. led the way, glancing back occasionally to make sure we were still there. The air was crisp, and the woods were silent, except for the occasional crack of a twig beneath our boots.
“Are you still sure about this?” I asked Ethan.
“Yes!” he said excitedly. “Dad has our location, don’t worry, Mom.”
We walked for about twenty minutes, deeper into the forest. Just as I was about to suggest turning back, the husky suddenly stopped in a small clearing.
He stood frozen, staring ahead, and that’s when I saw it.
A Desperate Cry for Help
A pregnant fox was caught in a hunter’s trap. She barely moved.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, rushing toward the fox.
She was weak, her fur matted with dirt. The trap had dug into her leg, and she trembled in pain.
“Mom, we have to help her!” Ethan’s voice shook. “Look at her—she’s hurt!”
“I know, I know,” I said, fumbling to free her from the cruel device. Christopher Jr. stood close, whining softly as if he understood the fox’s pain.
After what felt like an eternity, I managed to loosen the trap. The fox didn’t move at first. She just lay there, panting heavily.
“We need to get her to a vet immediately, E,” I said, pulling out my phone to call Kyle.
When Kyle arrived, we carefully wrapped the fox in a blanket and rushed her to the nearest veterinary clinic. The husky, of course, came with us.
The vet said she needed surgery, and we waited nervously. Ethan sat quietly next to the husky, his hands buried in the dog’s thick fur.
“Do you think she’ll be okay, Mom?” Ethan asked.
“I hope so, sweetheart,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s tough. And we did everything we could.”
The surgery was successful, but when the fox woke up, she let out a piercing cry that echoed through the clinic.
The vet couldn’t calm her, and neither could Kyle. But when I stepped into the room, she stopped. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she let out one last whimper before going silent.
“It’s like she knows you saved her,” the vet murmured.
Two days later, we brought her home. She gave birth to four tiny cubs, and we built them a den in the forest.
Now, every weekend, Ethan, CJ, and I visit them. And every time, the mother fox comes out to greet us, her little ones trailing behind, always curious.
What would you have done?