Part 1: The Morning My Dog Wouldn’t Stop Scratching at the Door

far corner, tucked behind an old rake and a cracked flowerpot, was a small nest made of clothing.

Familiar clothing.

I moved closer, my chest tightening with each step.

There were Lily’s things. A purple scarf. A blue hoodie. A white cardigan she hadn’t worn in years. And nestled gently among them was a calico cat, her body curled protectively around continue reading …