On a chilly autumn day, as the leaves drifted to the ground as graceful as ballerinas, a litter of little cata pups were born in a rusted red wheelbarrow. Their new mother had chosen this den weeks before, as it was comfortable and protected by the decayed walls of an abandoned garden shed. She curled up in the torn and dusty burlap sacks on the day of her pup’s birth. First were three stillborn. The mother tossed the bodies haphazardly to the side. Then a healthy looking male that looked just like his father was born. His gray and black speckled coat was vigorously licked clean by his over eager mother. Next, a tiny runt was born. The mom eyed the puppy suspiciously. Perhaps she should toss it over with the stillborn pups? A runt may be harder to care for as a new mom. But no, she simply sighed and began to wash the pup roughly. Its coat was an odd orange color with specks of brown. It looked like neither of its parents. The mother cared little about it however, and nosed the two newborns to her belly to drink.

A week later, the pups were still alive and thriving. The mother decided it was safe to name them. The male was named Rudy, and the runt (who she was now able to identify as a female) was named Loui. As time went on, the pups grew as quick as a fire in a dry field. And surprisingly, Loui was even more of a handful than her older and much larger brother! She continued to pester her mother and was showing great promise as an athletic pup. She caught mice in the shed and helped her mother sniff out food when prey was short. Her brother, however, was more interested in the human community near the back of the shed. He would sit for long hours watching the adults walk their dogs, and would pace back and fourth in front of the community fence when children were out playing. His mother tried to keep him away at first, but on most occasions, she just sighed and went back to entertaining her more needy pup. Eventually, Rudy disappeared from the shed, and Loui never saw her brother on their side of the fence again.

Soon enough winter began to creep up on Loui and her mother. The first snowfall blanketed the ground, and the sheds old tin roof became unsteady. In fear it may collapse, Loui\'s mum took her little pup out to look for a new shelter. The pair spent days traveling south, away from the human communities and into denser forests. Suddenly, they stopped in front of a large hole in the roots of a dead oak tree. A wisp of warm air wafted out from the hole, and Loui plopped herself inside before her mother could stop her, only to find herself in a pile of fox pups! They were very young, their eyes still closed, and their coats still wet from their first tongue bath from their mother. Loui was surprised to find herself not all that much bigger than the pups, despite being months older than they were. She felt teeth gently gripping her scruff as her mum pulled her out of the den. She yipped angrily and laid still in front of the entrance. It was cold outside, compared to the cuddly warmth of the den. Her mom looked around, sniffed the air cautiously, then nosed Loui right back into the den with a plop! She yapped a quick warning to the pup, Stay Put!, and trotted off. Loui was content with that and curled into the little foxy heap for a nap.

Loui’s mom returned just before sunset. She smelled of death, but brought no food with her. Her front paws were muddy with dirt and there was a splash of old blood on her muzzle. The fox kits whimpered inside the den. They could smell their mother, but she wasn’t there. They were confused and hungry, having not eaten a proper meal since birth. Loui poked her head out and licked her mum’s muzzle, tasting rotted blood. Her mother seemed sad for a reason Loui couldn’t for the life of her figure out. With a heavy sigh (her mother seemed to be doing that more and more these days) her mum wriggled into the den carefully, and curled her body around the fox kits. They whined and wriggled in fear, but Louis mum gently nosed them to her belly, and they begun to drink noisily. Loui crawled up to the feast and nabbed a bit of milk for herself as well, though she was weaned a day or so before. Her mother seemed unhappy about caring for the apparently orphaned kits, but Loui was not. The den was warm and safe, the kits were cuddly and in a few weeks would be much fun the play with, and they could settle for a while without having to drag their damp paws over the frigid snow and frost. This seemed as good a home as any to Loui.

The fox kits grew just as quickly as Loui and her brother had, and in a few weeks time were even more playful than Loui had expected. They pounced and tumbled on each others, tripping over tails and paws and snouts. Loui taught them to hunt small voles and white-footed mice to help out with the food load her mother had to bring home each day. It wasn’t long before Loui and her fox siblings were big enough to catch their own meals and explore the forest beyond the den. They stayed together for a while, going out on group hunts with mom and curling up in the den together during the worst of the snowfalls, but eventually one by one they began to go out in search of their own dens and territories. All, it seemed, except one. The smallest of the litter, a fluffy black, red, and white male named Cross, refused to leave Loui and her mum. He had become very close to the two dogs, and enjoyed their company more than anything else. So when the winter snow began to let up, Loui, her mum, and little Cross went out together to continue their search for a new home.

It seemed like years passed by before the snow stopped falling. The trio had spent many a night holed up in meager and pitiful shelters to keep out the cold. Eventually however, the snow did stop. And the world began to come alive as it did every year after the frost. Cross and Loui enjoyed hunting together and were large enough to care for themselves. A few weeks passed by before they found a new shelter in an old tree house that had fallen to the ground. The floor of the fort was eaten away entirely but the four walls and roof stood strong despite its age. It was a perfect home for Louis mother. So mum took shelter in the house, and abruptly chased Cross and Loui away from her new territory. The pair simply shrugged it off and continued on in search of their own home to share.

It wasn’t long before Loui sniffed out the perfect territory. An abandoned pumpkin field! Untouched by humans for many years, the pumpkin patch had died and regrown each year, sprouting up wild pumpkins for the forest animals to enjoy. The prey was plentiful around the patch, and old, dense forests and tall, thick meadows surrounded the whole field, creating a safe haven from humans. Loui and Cross dug up a den together on the very edge of the forest, where they would spend their lives gnawing on pumpkins and catching the fat lazy squirrels that lived in the patch as well. In the end, Loui had found a perfect home in the pumpkin fields, and Cross had never been happier to live out his days right alongside her.



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