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“Honey,” Mrs. Fox said laboriously, holding her husband’s hand. “S-should our,” her eyes clenched shut for a moment, “should our baby be more of a family pet? Can we afford our chances with this o-other,” she panted for a few more seconds, then finished “can we afford the chance of our baby’s life with this other family?”
Mr. Fox sat at the side of the delivery bed, holding his wife’s hand in both of his. “My instincts say ‘yes’, but, it’s our child...”
The five foxes and Mrs. Badger were all in Mr. and Mrs. Badger’s nook of the sewer, and, though it was early in the morning, Mr. Fox, Ash, Kristopherson and Agnes were all dressed nicely for the day. Today was their appointment with the Jets.
Ash stood beside his father, seemingly deep in thought. “I think he should. He’d have a better chance than any of us. Notwithstanding the sibling rivalry.” Mr. Fox glared at Ash, who threw his hands up. “That last part was a joke, dad.”
Mrs. Fox yelped, and Mrs. Badger, who normally was a pediatrician but for today doubled as a midwife, smiled. Infant cries came from a small bundle the gentle badger held. “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Fox. You have another son.”
Mr. Fox’s face lit up as he took his son into his arms, wrapped in a nearby towel. Ash, Kristopherson, and Agnes gathered around the baby, marveling over him.
“He’s really cute.” Ash said, bestowing a rare moment of sentiment.
“Mmm,” Agnes chuckled, “he sure is.”
“Alright kids, alright,” Mr. Fox handed his son over to his wife, leaning over the bed to look at him. “What should we name him?” Mr. Fox turned to the three younger foxes for advice as well.
“Well, how serious are we going to consider giving him to a human family?” Kristopherson asked. “Because if we are, we should give the humans the right to name him.”
Mrs. Fox looked sad, tears welling up in her eyes. “It seems so wrong, for us to not have the same chance as our baby.”
“You mean, it used to.” Ash said, taking his mom’s hand. “Now we can have that same chance.”
Mrs. Fox nodded. “I think he should come with us. Our ancestors would have been less gracious to many of their young, but that doesn’t mean we have to.”
The three younger foxes smiled. Hope was kindling.
This sentimental moment was broken with a beeping from Mr. Fox’s watch. “Holy cuss! We’re gonna’ be late for our appointment!
Everyone scrambled around, getting ready to leave. “Honey, you stay here. Today is more of a prep-talk than an official meeting anyway.”
“Thank you honey.” Mrs. Fox said, nursing her son.
The rest of the family scrambled up the ladder and up to the store. Once they reached the top, they froze. The supermarket was open, and shoppers were about. Worse yet, many of them saw the fox family.
“Back down!” Mr. Fox shouted, pushing everyone back down the hole and diving in himself. The group took time at the bottom to recover, then took another route to the outside.
“Hopefully this won’t reach Boggis, Bunce, and Bean.” Agnes said worriedly as the group ducked through alleyways and through backyards.
“There’s always that chance. There’s always BEEN that chance.” Mr. Fox said as they helped each other press on. “The only thing that’s changed is the direness of this meeting.”
Thankfully, the group encountered no other encounters with humans, but they all kept their guards up and worked their way around cautiously.

A doorbell rang, causing a young man to look up from his paper. “Hmm, I wonder who that could be.” A woman sitting at the same table shrugged. The man got up and answered the door. He sat no one until a whistle called him to look down. There, standing before him, were four foxes, dressed neatly with their fur combed.
“Mr. Jet?” Mr. Fox asked.
“Yes, that’s me, and I take it you’re the Fox’s?”
“Yes we are, sir.” Mr. Fox said. “Could we come in?”
“Certainly,” Mr. Jet said, opening the door and let the four in. “Cloe? The Fox’s are here.”
Cloe entered the room the four and Mr. Jet were in, paused, and looked the group over. “Glad you could join us.”
Minutes later, all six were sitting (the four foxes stood) at the table the pair was at moments before. Mrs. Jet had prepared a plate of sandwiches for the foxes, larger ones for herself and her husband. The foxes, not having had sandwiches much before, felt the desire to wolf the food down, which Mr. Fox seemed the most flippant about. Ash stopped him, giving him and understanding nod, and the five, in a civilized fashion, munched on the food.
“So, Mr. Fox,” Mr. Jet asked. “why have you decided to bring yourself and your family to our preserve?”
Mr. Fox finished his miniature sandwich and replied, “well quite frankly sir, I’ve gotten tired of being under the gun of Boggis, Bunce, and Bean, living on trash in a sewer system, having to steal and risk my life to care for my family,” he paused, then added, “to be plain about it.”
Mr. Jet chuckled. “I see.”
Mrs. Jet had put some tea on the stove, and brought three cups out. She realized, however, she didn’t have individual containers for her four guests, and put her hand to her forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how you would drink the tea.”
Mr. Fox looked at the cup, which was about his height, and said “It’s alright Mrs. Jet, I’m sure we could figure out something. Would you happen to have a straw?”
Mrs. Jet’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes, I believe we do.” She bustled over to a cupboard and brought out a straw. Mr. Fox crimped the end of the straw, and, passing it to the other three, they were able to partake of the tea.
Once the family looked satisfied, Mr. and Mrs. Jet talked to the family some.
“We received the report from Professor Jackson concerning how your life has been, and I believe there should be a few things addressed before we can continue ‘adopting’ you into our home.”
“What sorts of things?” Mr. Fox asked.
“Make a sort of peace with Boggis, Bunce, and Bean, first off.”
Mr. Fox growled, causing Mr. Jet to tense up some. Agnes put a hand on Mr. Fox’s shoulder. “We can do that.” She said, answering for him.
Mr. Fox nodded, though his expression was easy to tell that he didn’t agree with this….