Mrs. Foxx slumped against the door, sighing. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then reluctantly stood up to go back to the kitchen. On her way down the hall, she glanced at the gathering pictures along the wall. She stopped at one particular photo, where the Foxx family had gone to the beach. Her three cubs were burying her husband in the sand, the aqua waves crashing against the shore. She smiled at the memory, wishing for an easier time such as that. She continued down the hall, the delicious aroma of mouse wafting in the air as she neared the kitchen. Mrs. Foxx went back to the mice she was cooking for her family, and soon attracted the attention of her husband, Arnold.

“Hello, dear. How was your day?” he asked her as he attempted to pick off some food from the pan.

She smacked his paw away as she said, “We just got a visit from the banker.”

“Oh.”

“He’s coming back tomorrow for the money.”

“Oh. . .”

“Arnold, what are we going to do?” As she said this their youngest cub, Roxy, walked in.

“We can talk about this later.” Arnold said. He bent over the counter and kissed her on the cheek then walked out of the room.

“Hi mom.” Roxy said as she entered the kitchen. “Dinner is almost ready?”

“Yes, dear. I’m almost done making your salad, and the mice are almost ready.” Mrs. Foxx said as she tossed a salad.

Roxy rolled her eyes. “How can you eat mice? That’s disgusting.”

Roxy was the only girl in her family, besides her mother, and a vegetarian as well. She was a vegetarian because the only thing her mother could ever afford was mice, and her best friend Charlie was a mouse. It just didn’t seem right to Roxy to eat one of Charlie’s ‘relatives,’ even if they weren’t at all related, and even if Charlie didn’t care what Roxy ate.

“It is not, and you know it. We do what we can to survive. We have been over this so many times, dear.” Mrs. Fox sighed exasperatedly. She always brought up this topic around dinner time.

Roxy crossed her arms, set in her ways. “You know, our neighbors are mice. Don’t you think it’s weird to be eating one of their kind?”

“Roxy, stop this nonsense! I am so sick of explaining this to you every single night.” She practically snarled. “It is not the same. We aren’t wild and savage like those creatures. We are a different species. Understand? So, if you would please shut your snout and go get ready for dinner, it would be greatly appreciated.”

The young fox was slightly taken aback by her mother’s anger, as she usually had more patience than this. She scowled at her mother, brooding silently as she went to the bathroom to wash up.

Roxy was a small fox for her age, much shorter than the other animals in her class. She had inherited her father’s curiosity, and her mother’s independence, and often went on adventures with Charlie.

That night, and the following day, Roxy’s parents were in a strange mood. They were usually bubbly and energetic, but today they were very much the opposite. Roxy didn’t want to antagonize them, but she really wanted to know what was bothering them. After many hours of contemplating, Roxy finally built up the courage to ask. She slowly walked to her parent’s bedroom, knocking on the threshold on her way in.

“Come in dear, do you need something?” Mrs. Foxx said gloomily.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Roxy asked nervously, fiddling with her paws.

Mrs. Foxx looked up from folding towels, as if considering something, then said rather loudly, “FAMILY MEETING!” and ran into the dining room and sat at the table.

The Foxx family usually never had family meetings - only when they were really important. So, a bit confused, Roxy’s whole family went to their dining room: Mrs. Foxx, Mr. Foxx, Roxy, and her two brothers, Alex and Aaron.

“So!” her mother said. Everybody looked at her. this must be important, Roxy thought. Her mother looked so stern that Roxy was sure she had been expelled and was being shipped off to boarding school. Her mother looked around. Everyone was staring at her.

“Okay,” she said. “Your father and I have something to tell you.” Mrs. Foxx looked like she was going to be sick. Her ‘stern’ face had immediately melted away to dread. “Okay” she said again. “Arnold?”

“Y-yes, dear?” Mr. Foxx said. He, too, was now nervous.

“Would you like to tell our children why we are all here tonight?” Mrs. Foxx said in a more confident tone.

“O-okay, Molly.” he said. He looked at Roxy, wondering why she chose tonight to ask her mother. He understood it was an important question, and it needed to be addressed, but it was family game night!

“Uh,” Mr. Foxx started. He was sweating. “Erm...” All of a sudden, someone knocked at the door. “Roxy love, would you get that, please?” Mr. Foxx asked, relieved.

“Sure.” Roxy replied, glad to get out of all that nervous tension. She made her way to the door, quickening her pace when the animal knocked again. She opened it to find a scowling Snarl Wolfe. Roxy was unperturbed by his threatening demeanor. She grinned widely and swished her tail back and forth.

“Hello Mr. Banker!” Roxy said sweetly. Snarl glared at her.

“Outta the way, kid! I need to speak to your PARENTS.” he snapped. She stepped aside, and the wolf grimaced as he reluctantly ducked inside the burrow.

Snarl strode into the dining room, then stopped to lean on a wooden chair. Roxy followed him, quietly moving around the table, to where the rest of her family stood. Everyone was silent, waiting for the banker to speak. Snarl looked at the Foxx family like they were fleas, mentally reminding himself to bathe when he got home.

He finally broke the silence, flashing a toothy grin as he spoke. “Have you got the money yet?”

The Foxx children had no idea what the Banker was talking about, and they all looked towards their parents. What they did know was that they were poor. Very poor. And the Foxx children were pretty smart. They figured it had something to do with that.

“Please, sir,” Mr. Foxx begged. “Can’t we discuss this later? We just need one more day.”

Snarl considered Mr. Foxx for a moment. “I have given you more than enough time. You need to give me the money, or move out. It’s simple enough.”

A sharp rage had overcome Mrs. Foxx. “How dare you,” she seethed, her long ears pulled back in anger. She was considerably shorter than the banker, but he still took an involuntary step back, surprised by the usually gentle fox’s sudden outburst.

“You can’t just… I mean, why would you… it just doesn’t… you’ve always been so lenient…” Mr. Foxx stuttered. He was much taller and bulkier than his wife, but she was by far more terrifying at the moment. The three children stood around their parents, mute.

Snarl chuckled at her rage, and Mrs. Foxx howled in outrage at his amusement. “Get out!” she roared. “Get out of my house!”

He held up a well groomed paw. “Now Mrs. Foxx, is that any way to speak to your guest?” his sharp canines sparkled in the lamplight.

“Leave.” she ground out between her teeth.

The banker’s smile widened. “Very well. I will see all of you,” he said, looking at the Foxx family with obvious distaste. “Very soon. You better start packing!” Mrs. Foxx glared threateningly up at him, but said nothing.

Mr. Foxx slumped against the wall. “We understand. We’ll be out of the place by Friday.”

Snarl smiled. “Good. And not a day later.” he said. He laughed on his way to the door.

“Now, I am pleased to say, goodbye.” and slammed the door.