Page 1 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

Chapter 1

Jasper

The public library smells like old books, desperation, and someone’s microwaved fish lunch. I’m pretty sure at least two of those scents are coming from me.

I slouch lower in the hard plastic chair, my laptop—held together with duct tape and prayers—balanced on my knees as I scroll through my phone. Well, it’s not really my phone anymore since I can’t pay the bill, but the Wi-Fi here is free and I’ve got another hour before they kick me out for loitering. Again.

This is fine. Everything is fine.

Except it’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine.

I got evicted from my shitty apartment building last month. Then the transmission on my rust-bucket car finally gave up the ghost. So I’ve been crashing on my buddy’s couch and walking everywhere. Except my buddy’s girlfriend made it very clear last night that my welcome has expired. Something about ‘boundaries’ and ‘enabling’ and ‘you need to figure your shit out, Jasper.’

She’s not wrong.

I’ve got $23.47 in my bank account, no job prospects, no car, and as of tomorrow, no couch. I’ve been applying for everything from warehouse work to dishwashing, but apparentlymy resume—which reads like a commitment-phobe’s greatest hits—isn’t exactly inspiring confidence in potential employers.

Three months here, six months there, a year if I’m really pushing it.

I’m a fox shifter who can’t seem to settle anywhere, and yeah, I’m aware of the irony. But hey, at least my shoes don’t have holes in them. So, I’ve got one good thing going for me.

My thumb scrolls mindlessly through social media. Everyone on my feed seems to be living their best life, sipping cocktails at rooftop bars, traveling to exotic places. I pull my eyes away in disgust, trying to shake off the envy that creeps in like a bad smell. Then I spot some feel-good story about a dog that learned to skateboard. It makes me laugh, so I decide to end my doomscrolling on a good note. But then the headline on a news post catches my eye:

URBAN FOXES INCREASINGLY APPROACH HUMANS - SCIENTISTS BELIEVE THEY’RE MIMICKING HOUSE CAT BEHAVIOR FOR FOOD AND SHELTER

I click before I can stop myself.

‘Wildlife researchers have documented a surprising trend in urban fox populations,’ the article reads. ‘These typically elusive animals are approaching humans with increasing frequency, displaying behaviors remarkably similar to domestic cats. Scientists theorize that the foxes have observed how well-fed and comfortable house cats are, and have begun to mimic their behavior, approaching humans with apparent tameness, even rubbing against legs like cats do. Several homeowners have reported adopting foxes, saying they’ve become a wonderful addition to their household.’

I stare at the screen.

Then I read it again.

No. That’s insane. That’s absolutely insane.

But my mind is already spinning, that desperate part of my brain—the part that’s been screaming louder and louder as my options dwindle—latching onto this ridiculous idea like a life raft.

Foxes are pretending to be cats to get humans to take care of them.

And I’m a human who can actually become a fox when needed.

“Oh god,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I’m actually considering this.”

The old woman at the computer next to me gives me a suspicious look. I flash her an apologetic smile, and she huffs, turning back to her one-finger typing.

OK. Let’s think this through logically.

I need: food, shelter, and time to figure out my next move.

Some kindhearted human could provide: food, shelter, and time.

The catch: I’d have to pretend to be their pet.

This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,the rational part of my brain argues.And you once tried to become a professional poker player with $200 and a dream.

But the desperate part fires back:Do you have a better option? Because I’m all ears. Or should I say, all fox ears? Yip, yip, motherfucker.

I glance at the time. The library closes in an hour. After that, I’ve got nowhere to go.