I Thought My Dog Was Acting Strange—Until I Looked Under the Bed (4 of 5)

And over the next few days, I learned pieces of her truth. Her stepfather wasn’t the man he pretended to be. Her mother hadn’t believed her. So she ran. Through bus stops, garages, rain. Until she found my unlocked back door.

I never thought a stranger under my bed would become someone I cared so deeply about.

We painted her room together. Light blue—her choice. “Like the sky on good days,” she said.

I reached out to a friend who worked in youth services. Quietly. Carefully. Nora liked her.

Time passed. We created rhythm. Structure. Trust. I became her temporary guardian. Not because I planned to. Because I couldn’t not.

She started drawing again. Joined art club. Got second place at the school showcase. The trophy lives on my fridge like it’s gold.

Then one afternoon, a call. Her mom.

She’d left the man. Claimed she didn’t know. Wanted Nora back.

I told Nora. Her silence said everything.

But a week later, she asked to meet her.

It wasn’t easy. But it was real. Letters followed. Phone calls. Then visits. And finally, she moved back in.