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The Fox family brought their bags into the Jets home the next day, who eagerly put them on a nearby counter. “So,” Mr. Jet said, rolling up his sleeves. “Shall we look at the trees outside? I’m sure we could find you a nice one.”
“Wait, you want to get us a tree?” Mr. Fox asked.
“Sure,” Mr. Jet said, “and, if you need anything to make it look better, I guess, after you work on the inside, we can give that to you. Concrete, dirt, whatever you need.”
Mr. and Mrs. Fox looked at each other. “Wow. Um, thank you.”
Mr. and Mrs. Jet smiled. “Sure.” Mr. Jet said, then gestured outside. “Shall we?”
The two men went outside while Mrs. Jet was momentarily enthralled with the new addition to the Fox family, chatting with Mrs. Fox.

“Mr. Fox, I want you to know that I’m honored for you and your family to stay here. I know it must mean a lot for you to leave you roots and be with humans, but, I guess sometimes sacrifices have to be made, huh?”
Mr. Fox nodded. “You can say that again. Less than one fox year ago, the thought of having anything to do with humans besides outsmarting them and stealing their food wasn’t even in my thick furry skull. I guess it was these past couple months that made me see things differently. Sure, I love the feeling of a chicken trashing before I end its tiny life in one vicious bite, but when it comes between that and my family’s safety, it just wasn’t worth it anymore.”
“Perfectly reasonable, Mr. Fox.” Mr. Jet said.
“Really?” Mr. Fox asked.
“Sure!” Mr. Jet said, obviously having experienced something of the same fashion. “It was the same sort of thing before I met my wife. I was all about fishing, hunting, and hanging with the guys. No responsibilities, and the whole day was always mine. But, when I met Gloria, things had to change. Sure, I get a little recreation now and then, but it’s more healthy alternatives, like hunting once in awhile; lately I’ve taken my wife on a few hunting trips.” Mr. Jet smiled at the memory, then his eyes widened upon an idea.
“I have an idea, Mr. Fox, to help you with your chicken feeding. Why don’t we get a couple live chickens and let you kill them for us? We could find another recreational thing for you to do afterwards, as we’d wean you off the urge.”
“Eh, sure, I guess.” Mr. Fox said, entirely caught off guard by the gesture. “Um, thanks.”
“No problem Mr. Fox.” Mr. Jet chuckled as they reached the trees.
“So, see any you like?”
Mr. Fox took a step forward and looked at the trees. He walked up to some, pressed his ear to them, and knocked. Others, he placed his hands on them as though trying to feel a certain part of them. It was a very thoughtful process. Mr. Fox grunted approvingly upon one large oak, and finally turned around, nodding. “This one should be good.”
Mr. Jet nodded. “Alright then.”

The two families shared a dinner together that night. Mr. Fox first thought of tearing into the food, but a hand and look from his wife discouraged the idea. It appeared that Mr. Fox was the only one who struggled with a ‘proper’ eating habit, while the children and Mrs. Fox were doing well at eating with their own small silverware.
Mr. Fox grew to the point where he placed his silverware down with less than a desirable clank. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Jet, but I am completely out of my element here. I need to, just,” his voice trailed off.
Mr. Jet put down his silverware. “I understand Mr. Fox. We don’t mind. This is why you’re here, remember. Neither of us expect you to be completely domesticated in one evening.”
Mr. Fox nodded. “That sounds like slavery the way that was put, even though I know it’s not.” With that, Mr. Fox scarfed down his food, causing the rest of the Fox family to look up at him, not holding a particularly gleeful expression.
Mr. Jet, however, looked the situation over, then grinned to himself. Perhaps he had the answer to Mr. Fox’s habits, but that would have to wait until tomorrow.
That evening, Mrs. Fox put her tiniest son to sleep, then talked to the boys then Agnes later. Mr. Fox sat up talking to Mr. Jet, both of their pipes lit.
“Well, Mr. Fox, what are you going to call your son?” He asked, grinning widely.
“Well, we were thinking of something like Jake or Jacob, it seems to hold some strength as both a boy and man’s name.”
Mr. Jet nodded. “That it does.”
There were some puffs exchanged between the two, then Mr. Jet decided to run by his idea to Mr. Fox.
“Mr. Fox,” Mr. Jet said, looking focused, “have you ever taken up sports?”
Mr. Fox shook his head. “You’re the second person who’s asked that, and the answer is no.”
“Well, I think I may have a way for you to work out your obvious tendencies for action and take up something more constructive.”
“Really?” Mr. Fox said, looking genuinely interested. “And what is that?”
Mr. Jet smiled. “That will have to wait until tomorrow. I would like to hollow out that tree you chose yesterday, but I think the one ones who can do the job justice are you and your friends, am I correct?”
Mr. Fox nodded. “Yeah, it would be more productive, or we could just get the boys to do it,” he added, referring to Kristopherson and Ash.
“Hmm, perhaps. See, I’m thinking Mr. Fox, that the male, whether human or not, have the tendency to want to be active, to go out and build, or hunt, in your case. One successful way to curb it is to give liberty in the areas that still get oneself tired, working for something good. I’m thinking your sons MAY have that same tendency, perhaps your son Ash more than Kristopherson.” Mr. Jet went back to his pipe puffing having said his piece.
Mr. Fox thought, pipe out of his mouth. “Hmm, you could be right. I admit, I’ve felt jittery at times. Guess I thought that was just the animal in me.”
Mr. Jet smiled again. “Perhaps it’s the animal in ALL of us that drives us like how you say, hmm?”
Mr. Fox genuinely smiled. That made sense.
“Hmm, I guess it is then.” The two raised their pipes to each other and concluded the evening.