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

the air cool and still. He ran his hand along the warped wooden wall, his eyes lingering on the corner where the nest had been.

“She must have felt proud,” he said softly. “Helping them. Keeping a secret like that.”

“She always did,” I replied. “She liked knowing she made a difference.”

We cleaned the space together, not because it was needed anymore,continue reading …