2
500words
Ever since they adopted that fox, I’d hear them arguing through walls.
Jack insisted foxes were obligate carnivores needing fresh meat daily. Emily would snap back that "the beast should be grateful for scraps" – adding that a dog would’ve at least been useful.
She would rail at Jack for earning too little to support her and their son Tommy, let alone buy meat for a wild animal.
After one vicious fight, Jack stormed out and didn’t return for a week. My mother-in-law Linda invited Emily over for dinner to smooth things out.
But Emily arrived with an agenda. Midway through the meal, she hinted heavily that we should take the fox.
Linda hesitated, catching my eye. "Claire’s due in a month. It wouldn’t be practical."
"Practical?" Emily’s fork clattered against her plate. "Experts say children develop immunity around animals! When Claire’s baby comes, it’ll have a built-in playmate. Win-win! Admit it, Mom, you’re playing favorites. When I gave birth early, my family handled everything – you barely lifted a finger!"
Linda fluttered her hands. "What nonsense! Don’t think that way."
I hid a bitter smile. When Emily delivered Tommy prematurely, Linda hadn’t left that hospital cot for three days. Emily’s mother? She’d shown up for ten minutes before discharge. If that was "handling everything," Linda had practically crowned Emily royalty.
Linda pretended to placate her,but she was no fool. She knew about my allergies and would never risk the fox here.
As they talked, I tore a strip of roast chicken from my plate and flicked it onto the floor.
The fox’s head jerked up, eyes wide. I pointed to the meat. It scurried over, snatched it, and gulped it down. Its tail thumped hopefully against the leg of my chair as it stared at the remaining chicken on my plate.
I tossed another piece. Then another. It ate faster with each morsel, as if learning I’d only give more once it finished.
Half the chicken vanished before I'd eaten much.
My stomach rumbled. When I finally lifted my fork, the fox shoved its muzzle onto my thigh, whining.
Impatient, it raked its claws down my leg, demanding more.
Wild things stay wild, I thought coldly. Greedy and selfish,no matter how smart it is.
Its claws snagged my favorite linen dress, ripping the hem. Had it struck skin, I’d be bleeding.
Jack and Emily had never taken it to a vet – God knew if it carried rabies.
"What are you doing?" Emily’s hand shot out, smacking the fork from my grip. Chicken flew across the table.
"It’s a fox! It’ll eat roadkill! If you spoil it into demanding chicken, you’ll be the one buying it daily!"
She wrenched the fox’s leash, jerking its collar tight until its eyes bulged white.
"All you do is eat," she hissed at the gasping creature. "One day I’ll turn you into stew."
The fox bared its teeth in a ragged snarl, glaring back at her.
