Page 23 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

My life has become absolutely insane.

“Whiskers?” Bea’s voice calls from downstairs. “Are you home, sweetie? I’m back from the library!”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I spring into action, shoving Jasper’s jeans into the cabinet under the sink, behind the spare toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Then I look around the bathroom with fresh eyes—what evidence did we leave?

The towel is on the floor. I hang it back up.

The lotion bottle is by the sink. I put it back in its spot.

The counter has water droplets everywhere from where I was sitting. I grab a hand towel and wipe it down quickly.

The mirror is still fogged. I wipe that too.

I’m just shoving the hand towel back on its rack when Bea’s footsteps start up the stairs.

“Whiskers? Are you up here?”

I shift in a panic, bones compressing, fur sprouting, and I land on all fours emerging from the bathroom just as Bea steps on the landing.

“There you are!” She smiles, bending down to scoop me up. “Were you taking a nap on the bathroom rug? That’s unusual for you.”

I meow innocently, trying not to think about what I was actually doing on the bathroom counter mere moments ago.

“You’ll never believe what I found at the library,” she says, scooping me up and carrying me downstairs. Her voice has that excited lilt she gets. “They had an entire section on exotic pet care! I checked out three books about foxes.”

Oh god.

She sets me on the kitchen counter and I see them—a stack of library books with titles like “Living with Foxes,” “Urban Fox Behavior,” and “So You’ve Adopted a Wild Animal: A Guide.”

“Look at this one,” Bea says, opening the top book and showing me a page with diagrams. “It says foxes are incredibly intelligent but can be destructive when they’re stressed or bored. That must be what happened this morning with poor Sox.”

Poor Sox. Poor Sox?! That bastard is not suffering by a long shot!

“And listen to this,” she continues, running her finger down the page. “‘Foxes are naturally curious and will explore every inch of their environment. They may mark territory, dig,and collect objects that interest them.’” She looks toward the laundry room thoughtfully. “Maybe I should give him some toys. Something to keep him occupied.”

I meow, trying to convey that what Sox really needs is to be kicked out, but Bea just scratches behind my ears.

“You’re such a good girl, listening to me read. I know you might feel a bit jealous with Sox here, but I promise, you’re still my number one.” She kisses the top of my head. “This book says that cats and foxes can actually coexist quite well if properly introduced. We just need to be patient.”

Patient. Right. Because patience is exactly what I’m known for.

A thump from outside makes us both freeze.

Bea looks at the windows. “What was that?”

That was your ‘guest’ probably falling off something because foxes climb trees, not buildings.

I meow and jump down from the counter, padding toward the fridge and meowing again to distract her.

“Are you hungry, my sweet girl?”

Another meow.

“Of course you are.” She wanders over and opens the fridge. “How about some lunch? I’ve got this nice turkey leg that I—” she pauses, lifting the Saran Wrap. “That’s odd. I don’t remember taking a bite from this.”

She lifts the leg closer to her face, inspecting it, then shrugs and sets it on a plate. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess.” She carves off a few small pieces and sets them on a dish, then wraps up what’s left and returns it to the fridge with a little frown. “But it is very strange, that bite. Maybe I was hungrier than I thought. I mean, it’s not like you’re turning into a human and raiding the fridge.” She winks, and I almost choke.