Page 3 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

I can do pathetic. I’ve had plenty of practice lately.

As I approach her back porch, I add a slight limp to my gait. Not too much—don’t want to look injured enough to need a vet—but enough to inspire sympathy. I make a soft, whimpering sound and scratch the door.

Come on, universe. I’m a fox literally begging for scraps. Throw me a bone here.

The door opens and my heart leaps.

She’s there, on the porch, looking right at me.

“Oh my goodness,” she breathes, her hand going to her chest. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?” She leans down a little and I make another whimpering sound. “Do you need help? You poor thing.”

Yes. Poor thing. Very poor. Extremely poor. Please feed me.

I take a hesitant step closer, then stop, giving her my best ‘I’m scared but hopeful’ look. I learned this from watching sad dog videos online. Who knew that would actually come in handy?

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” She comes toward me slowly, crouching. “You look so thin. Are you hungry?”

I whine softly and take another step, my limp more pronounced.

“Oh, you’re hurt!” Her face crumples with concern. “You poor baby. Wait right here, OK? Don’t run away.”

She disappears inside and I resist the urge to do a victory dance. Or would it be a victory prance? Either way, it’s working.

She returns with a small dish of what smells like actual chicken—not cat food, real chicken—and sets it on the porch.

“Here you go, sweetie. It’s OK. I won’t hurt you.”

I approach slowly, eating from the dish while keeping one eye on her. The chicken is delicious—though my fox tongue finds random things in the forest delicious. But when was the last time I ate actual food? Yesterday? Two days ago?

Don’t think about that. Stay in character.

“Such a pretty fox,” she coos. “I’ve never seen one up close before. You must be so scared, all alone out here.”

Lady, you have no idea.

When I finish eating, I sit and look up at her with what I hope are soulful eyes.

“You’re not wild, are you? I think you might be someone’s pet and you’re lost. Would you like to come inside? It’s getting cold out here.” She opens the door wider. “I know people don’t normally keep foxes as pets, but you seem so gentle. And that paw...”

I limp toward her, not quite believing this is working. She’s actually going to let me in. A strange fox. Into her house. Just like that.

Thank god for crazy cat ladies with big hearts.

I cross the threshold into a home that smells like lavender and vanilla and?—

Wait.

My nose twitches.

There’s another scent here. Something wild beneath the domestic smells. Something that makes my hackles rise instinctively.

Another shifter.

Are you for-fucking-real?

I turn my head and there, sitting on the arm of a cream-colored sofa, is a tabby cat.

She’s staring at me with yellow-green eyes that are far too intelligent, far too aware to be one hundred percent feline.