Page 48 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

I catch Jasper’s eye and have to suppress a laugh. A year ago, we were two shifters pretending to be pets, stealing food and framing each other for crimes. Now we’re married parents of triplets, living openly with Bea, and about to parade around the neighborhood in animal costumes for the second year running.

Life is weird. And perfect.

“Fine,” Jasper says. “But I want it on record that I’m doing this under duress.”

“Noted,” I say, leaning over to kiss him. “You’re very brave.”

“I’m very stupid is what I am.”

“That too.”

We manage to get the babies fed, changed, and loaded into the triple stroller Bea bought—another production that should probably be filmed for a sitcom—before heading out to join the parade.

The neighborhood goes absolutely insane when they see us.

“Oh my god, the fox and cat are back!”

“And the BABIES!”

“Look at the little costumes!”

Children swarm us immediately, cooing over the triplets and petting Sox and Whiskers. Parents pull out phones to takepictures. Mrs. Patterson from two houses down actually tears up.

“Your grandbabies are just adorable,” she tells Bea. “How are the new parents holding up? Having a quiet moment to themselves at home, I’m guessing?”

Bea looks at us conspiratorially before answering. “Oh, they’re busy with a Halloween treat for me. They know how much I love the holiday.”

“Such good kids. You’re lucky to have them.”

Bea beams and glances down at us. “I really am.”

The parade winds through the neighborhood, and by the time we make it back to Bea’s house, all three babies are asleep in their stroller—an actual miracle—and I’m reminded why we do this ridiculous thing.

It’s not about the costumes or the parade or even Halloween, really.

It’s about family. About belonging. About having a place in the world where people know you and love you and expect to see you every year in a tiny witch hat.

Later that night, after trick-or-treating is done and the babies are finally, blessedly asleep in their cribs, Jasper and I collapse into bed.

“We survived,” he says, staring at the ceiling.

“Barely.”

“Do you think they’ll sleep tonight?”

“Absolutely not.”

He laughs, the sound tired but genuine. “This is insane. Our life is completely insane.”

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

“Me neither.”

He rolls over to look at me, propping his head up on his hand. “You know what I was thinking about during the parade?”

“How much you hate the bow tie?”