When Maggie, her son Ethan, and her husband Kyle moved into their new house, they were all excited for a fresh start. Ethan needed a new school and a change of scenery, while Maggie just wanted him to feel happy and secure. But little did they know, their new home would bring more than just a new beginning—it would introduce them to a strange, mysterious companion.

We had just moved into our new house, and from the moment we arrived, everything felt right. It was the beginning of a new chapter in our lives, and I was more than ready to embrace it. Kyle, my husband, and I were eager to give our son, Ethan, a fresh start. He’d been struggling with bullying at his old school, and we were all eager to leave that behind.

The house had previously belonged to an elderly man named Christopher, who had passed away recently. His daughter, a woman in her forties, sold us the house, saying it was too emotional for her to keep. She hadn't lived there since her father’s passing.

"I just want it to go to a family that will love it as much as we did," she told me when we met to tour the place. "There are just too many memories here."

I reassured her, "I completely understand. We'll make it our forever home."

We were excited to settle in, but from day one, something strange began happening. Every morning, a husky would appear at our front door. This dog was old, with graying fur and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

He didn't bark or demand attention. He simply sat there, waiting. Of course, we gave him some food and water, thinking maybe he belonged to a neighbor. After eating, he’d wander off, like it was all part of his daily routine.

"Do you think his owners just don't feed him enough, Mom?" Ethan asked one day while we were at the grocery store, picking up dog food for the husky.

"I don't know, E," I replied. "Maybe the old man who lived here fed him, and now it’s part of his routine."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Ethan said, tossing some dog treats into the cart.

At first, we didn’t think much of it. Kyle and I had talked about getting Ethan a dog, but we were planning to wait until he got settled at his new school.

But then, the husky came again the next day. And the day after that. Always at the same time, always sitting patiently by the porch.

It felt like the husky wasn’t just a stray. He acted as if he belonged there. Like we were the temporary guests in his home. It was strange, but we didn’t think much of it.

Ethan was overjoyed. I could see how much he was bonding with the husky. He would spend hours running around with the dog, tossing sticks for him to chase, or sitting on the porch talking to him as if they had known each other forever.

I would watch from the kitchen window, smiling at the easy bond they’d developed.

It was exactly what Ethan needed after everything he had been through at his old school.

One morning, while petting the husky, Ethan ran his fingers over the dog's collar.

"Mom, there's a name here!" he called out.

I knelt next to the dog and brushed away some of the fur covering the worn leather collar. The name was faded, but there it was: Christopher Jr.

My heart skipped a beat.

Was this a coincidence?

Christopher, the same name as the man who had owned our house? Could this husky have been his dog? The thought made my skin crawl. Tracy, the daughter who sold us the house, had never mentioned a dog.

"Do you think he's been coming here because it used to be his home?" Ethan asked, his wide eyes full of curiosity.

I shrugged, feeling uneasy. "Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard to say."

At the same time, it felt like the husky wasn’t just any stray. He acted as if he had a purpose. Like we were intruding on his space. It was unsettling, but we still didn’t know what to make of it.

Later that day, after the husky had eaten, he started acting oddly. He whined softly and paced back and forth near the edge of the yard, his eyes constantly glancing toward the woods.

This was new. He had never behaved like this before. Now, it was as if he wanted us to follow him.

The dog stopped and stared into the woods. That’s when I saw it.

"Mom, I think he wants us to follow him!" Ethan exclaimed, already pulling on his jacket.

I hesitated.

"Sweetheart, I’m not sure that’s a good idea..." I said, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, Mom! We’ve got to see where he’s going. We’ll take our phones, and I’ll text Dad. Please?"

Reluctantly, I agreed. There was something about the husky’s behavior that made me think this wasn’t just a random walk.

So, we followed him.

The husky led the way, occasionally glancing back to make sure we were keeping up. The air was crisp, and the woods were eerily quiet, save for the occasional snap of a twig beneath our boots.

"Are you still sure about this?" I asked Ethan, unsure.

"Yes!" he said, his excitement bubbling over. "Dad has our location. Don’t worry, Mom."

We walked for about twenty minutes, deeper into the forest than I had ever been before. Just as I was about to suggest we turn back, the husky stopped suddenly at a small clearing.

And then I saw it.

A pregnant fox was trapped in a hunter’s snare, barely moving, her body trembling with pain.

"Oh my God," I whispered, rushing toward the fox.

She was weak, her breathing shallow, her fur matted with dirt. The trap had dug into her leg, and she was clearly in agony.

"Mom, we have to help her!" Ethan said, his voice trembling. "Look at her, she’s hurt!"

"I know, sweetie," I replied, my hands shaking as I worked to release her from the cruel trap. The husky stood close by, whining softly as though he understood the fox's suffering.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to free the fox. She didn’t move at first. She just lay there, panting heavily.

"We need to get her to the vet, now," I said, pulling out my phone to call Kyle.

When Kyle arrived, we gently wrapped the fox in a blanket and rushed her to the nearest vet clinic. The husky, of course, came along, never leaving the fox’s side.

The vet said the fox needed surgery, and we waited anxiously in the small, sterile room. Ethan sat next to the husky, his hand resting on the dog’s thick fur.

"You think she’ll make it, Mom?" Ethan asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I hope so, honey," I said, squeezing his shoulder. "She’s strong. We’ve done everything we can."

The surgery was a success, but when the fox woke up, she started howling, her cries echoing through the clinic.

Neither Kyle nor the vet could calm her down. But when I walked into the room, the fox stopped. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she let out one final soft whimper before falling silent.

"It’s like she knows you helped her," the vet said, astonished.

We returned for the fox two days later and brought her home. We set her up in a small den in our garage, where she could rest and recover. CJ, as Ethan had taken to calling the husky, stayed by her side the entire time.

A few days later, the fox gave birth to four tiny kits. It was the most amazing thing I had ever witnessed. And she let us be a part of it.

"She only lets us near her babies," Ethan said one day when we went to check on the fox and her kits. "She trusts us."

"And the dog too," I added, smiling. "CJ seems right at home with us."

When the kits were old enough, Kyle and I knew it was time to let them go. We built a proper den for them back in the forest and watched as the fox disappeared into it with her babies.

Now, every weekend, Ethan, CJ, and I walk into the woods to visit them. The fox always comes out to greet us, her kits trailing behind her, as curious as ever.

What would you have done?