Page 42 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

Bea returns triumphant from her shopping and calls us in for a conference. She’s laid out two bundles on the kitchen table: one is a stack of new clothes for Tabitha—jeans, sweaters, a dress, even some actual underwear and two pairs of shoes—and she’s even laid out a pile for me. Which is supremely unexpected.

“I found that ratty pack of yours, Jasper. And you can’t go around wearing shirts with holes in them. So I’ve bought you enough new things to keep you looking presentable. Next week, I’ll take you to the hardware store, and we’ll set you up with tools and then?—”

She doesn’t get to finish before I throw my arms around her and hug her tight and, for a second, I forget to let go. Maybe she does too, because her hand rubs circles on my back, gentle as a spring breeze, squeezing me back before she wipes her cheek—definitely not crying, just rubbing dust from her eye.

“You’re one of mine now,” Bea whispers. “Both of you. That’s that.”

Tabitha blinks several times, blinking harder when she realizes she’s not the only one getting misty-eyed. She stands, holding the new clothes to her chest, looking more fragile than I’ve ever seen her. “Thank you, Bea,” she says, her voice so soft I almost miss it. “You really didn’t have to…”

She doesn’t finish, but Bea gets it. She gets all of it. Sometimes, I think the humans have a better grip on what matters than any shifter I ever met.

“Go on and try those on, love,” Bea says, bustling back toward the kitchen. “Then come help me finish getting these bags ready for our trick or treaters.”

By late afternoon, the house looks like a Halloween explosion both inside and out. But we’re ready.

Bea stands back, hands on her hips, surveying all of our work. “Excellent job, you two. Now we just need to put on our—” She stops. “Oh, dear.”

“What?” Tabitha asks.

“Costumes. I completely forgot about costumes!” She looks stricken. “The parade will start soon, and you two won’t have anything to wear?—”

“We don’t need costumes,” Tabitha assures her. “We can just stay here and hand out candy.”

“I could put my old clothes on and tell everyone I’m dressed as a homeless person,” I suggest. And both Tabitha and Bea give me long-suffering looks.

“No, Jasper. That isn’t an option. Everyone in the street dresses up.” She’s already wringing her hands. “What to do... Unless...” Her face brightens. “Wait here!”

She disappears into the house and returns a few minutes later carrying a small shopping bag.

“I, um.” She looks embarrassed. “I may have gotten a bit carried away when I was shopping for Halloween supplies earlier in the week. I saw these at the pet store and couldn’t resist.”

Oh no.

She pulls out two costumes. Pet costumes. A tiny tuxedo with a bow tie, and a little witch’s outfit complete with a tiny hat.

Tabitha and I stare.

“I know it’s silly,” Bea says quickly. “But I thought maybe, if you didn’t mind shifting just for the evening, you could wear these? The neighborhood children would love it. You’d be like those dogs who help hand out candy on the internet. Except…not dogs.”

I look at Tabitha. She looks at me.

Through our bond, I feel her amusement mixing with her affection for Bea. She wants to do this. For her.

‘A tuxedo?’I think at her.

‘It could be worse. You could be wearing the witch costume.’

‘Fair point.’

“We’ll do it,” I say out loud. “But I’m drawing the line at wearing any hats,” I add, knowing full well the moment Bea pulls the tiny top hat out of the bag, it’s going on my head immediately.

Tabitha eyes the little witch costume. “Do I have to wear the hat?” she asks, her tone... resigned but not unhappy.

“You’d look adorable,” I say, and mean it.

She rolls her eyes. “Fox, you are the worst.”

“And you’re the best. See? We’re a matched set.”