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Arnold and Ariel Krieger, the parents of Arthur were having a sixteenth birthday party for their grandson, Gary. It was going to be a big day for Karen, as she would get to meet her boyfriend's family. By this time, her injuries had completely healed, not a trace of that horrible day could be seen on her. She was enjoying the ride through the picturesque countryside where the elder Kriegers resided. The smell of freshly cut grass permeated the air when they arrived at Arthur's parents house. Karen got out of the car, seeing an elegant two story house with a huge front and backyard. She went to the backseat of the car, grabbing hold of the bass guitar case.

"Not yet," said Arthur. "I to surprise him later on with that."

"Okay," said the vixen, smiling. She shut the car door and walked up the driveway and onto the front porch. Nervous, she adjusted her clothing, making sure she was presentable as possible. Arthur gently took hold of her paw.

"You'll be fine, Karen," he said reassuringly. "Everyone wants to meet you."

"They won't mind having a vixen in the family?" she asked, still unsure of herself.

"Not at all," said Arthur. "My family if loving, open and understanding. Trust me, half an hour after we've been inside, you'll feel at home. You'll see."

She took a deep breath, hoping he was right. Arthur rang the doorbell. The door opened, revealing a female squirrel in her seventies. Arthur hugged her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi, Mom," he said. "How have you been?"

"Fine and dandy," said his mother. "Why, this must be Karen."

"Hi," said the vixen, shaking Ariel's paw. "You must be Mrs. Krieger."

Ariel waved her paw, laughing. "Please, just call me Ariel. Come in, the party is just getting started."

Arthur and Karen entered the house. The smell of food cooking suffused the entire house. Arthur brought Karen into the living room where his family was busy laughing, telling stories.

"Arthur!" yelled an older squirrel. "Come here, let me meet this lovely lady of yours."

"Hey, Dad," said Arthur, grinning. "Karen, this is my father, Arnold. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Karen."

Karen smiled as Arthur's father leaned down and kissed her paw. "Very pleased to meet you, Karen. Make yourself at home."

The vixen could see where her boyfriend got his charm. Arnold smiled as he sat back down. Several younger squirrel's ran around the house, making noise as they happily played. Arthur had been wrong about needing a half an hour to feel at home. Karen already felt like she was a member of the family. She sat down on a couch next to Arthur, but was quickly met by a brown male squirrel coming up to her.

"Are you Karen?" asked the male squirrel.

"Yes," said Karen, knowing instantly who the young male was. "And you must be Gary."

"I am," said Gary, shaking her paw. "I guess I'm going to have to call you Aunt Karen soon, right?"

"I suppose so," said Karen, holding up her paw with the engagement ring on it. "I take it everyone has heard the happy news?"

Several squirrels in the living room nodded, but the nods turned to clapping as Arthur gave his vixen a kiss on the cheek. Arthur's sister Sophia walked up to her, giving the vixen a tight hug. "Welcome to our family, honey."

"Thanks," said Karen. "I feel like I'm already part of the family."

"She was worried about that we'd have a problem with her being a vixen and um, you know . . . the age difference," said Arthur awkwardly.

"Nonsense," said Arnold. "I'm jealous, son."

"Arnold!" yelled Ariel. "I heard that, you pig."

Everyone laughed at the old couple, and Karen now felt completely at ease with everyone. She talked to Arthur's younger brother Max, who also worked as a CPA, as did Arnold, though he was retired now. It looked like everyone in the family was either an accountant or a lawyer. She snuggled up against Arthur, loving him and his family. There were more family members who introduced themselves and every one of them the vixen found to be polite, friendly and laid back. She wished she could have grown up in such a close knit family.

"I think it's time we sing happy birthday to the birthday boy. Don't you think so, Ariel?"

Everyone went out to the kitchen where a large chocolate cake that read "Happy 16th Birthday, Gary!" was sitting on the kitchen table. Everyone gathered around in a circle, singing to the boy. Gary blew out his candles to applause and was ready to eat some of the cake, but what he was really looking forward to were all the presents that he knew he'd be getting. His mother Sophia told him to be patient, but being the loving grandparents they were, Arnold and Sophia insisted that he should be allowed to open them up. Gary ran over to the presents, all piled in a corner of the living room. The young squirrel loved everything he got, receiving a new mp3 player, a larger bass guitar amp that he would certainly need now that he was playing in a band. His grandparents simply gave him cash. When he'd opened everything, he looked over at his Uncle Arthur, not wanting to outright ask him what he had bought for him, but finding it hard to resist.

"Uncle Arthur?" he said. "You . . . you didn't forget me, did you?"

"Of course not," said the squirrel, patting his nephew on the back. "I'll go get your present, but you have to cover your eyes."

"Why?" asked the young squirrel.

"Because that's the only way you're going to get it," said Arthur, giving the boy a punch on the shoulder.

Not wanting to be denied another gift, Gary did as he was told. Arthur deliberately took his time going out to the car and coming back. Gary still had his eyes closed when Arthur laid the case down on the floor and unlatched it.

"Okay," he said. "Now you see your present."

Gary opened his eyes, taking a few steps back as soon as he saw what his uncle had bought him. "Holy shit," said the young boy.

"Gary!" snapped Sophia. Several of Gary's younger cousins laughed at the boy's curse word. He leaned down, picking up the bass and holding it in his paws. He'd wanted a Rickenbacker bass ever since he took up the instrument at fourteen, but his mother and father always told him it was too much money. Putting the strap over his shoulders, he played some notes unplugged before he tried it out through his new amp. Karen was shocked at how good of a player he was for only being sixteen. It was nice to see Troy's old bass on a nice beast instead of a bastard like her ex. Gary played the bassline to "Tom Sawyer" as he looked over at his Uncle Arthur.

"You can't have a Rickenbacker bass and not play Rush songs on it," he said. "Thank you so much, Uncle Arthur!"

"Your welcome," said Arthur, glad that his nephew was enjoying his new present.

"That was very generous of you, Arthur," said his sister Sophia.

"Sure was," said Gary, still playing the bass. "Uncle Arthur, can I come and live with you and Aunt Karen? I bet you two will buy me whatever I want."

"Watch it," scolded Sophia. "You better behave yourself or I'll beat you over the head with that bass."

"Sophia," said Arthur, shaking his head. "That's a terrible idea. I paid a lot for that thing and I don't want to see it beaten up."

"Yeah!" said Gary smuggly.

"Just hit the little brat with a belt, okay?" suggested Arthur.

"Hey!" said Gary, wounded by the remark. Everyone laughed and Karen felt like it was the happiest day of her life.

At a smokey, dimly lit bar, Troy was busy losing money like he usually did. The wolf, still with his wrist wrapped up from where Arthur had broken it, was in a foul mood. He had entered the bar with a meager fifty dollars and lost it all. If that wasn't bad enough, he was also in the hole, owing two hundred dollars to a lion playing poker. Worse, the bartender had cut him off, knowing that he didn't even have the money to pay for his bar tab. The wolf's reputation around the place was so poor that almost nobody would even deal with him anymore.

Troy was up shit's creek without a paddle now. He'd finally been laid off from the foundry; at least that's what he told everyone. Even though his place of employment was in financial trouble he had actually been let go for showing up to work drunk. Stumbling around the bar, he went back to the lion, who gave him a dirty look.

"You gonna have my money soon?" asked the lion, deliberately blowing cigar smoke in the wolf's face.

"You wanna play another game?" asked Troy. "Bet ya I can win back that money."

"Doubt it," said the lion. "You ain't good for it anyway."

"Sure I am," protested the wolf. "I betcha I can . . ."

The lion stood up, causing Troy to shut his mouth. "That's your problem, Troy. You're always betting, and always losing. Now, you gonna get my money or am I gonna have to kick your ass?" He laughed, seeing the wolf's right wrist. "Looks like you already pissed off somebody bad enough to do that, doesn't it?"

Troy snarled inwardly. He was still livid about what that squirrel had done to him. He'd played it back in his mind a million times, convincing himself that if he hadn't been drunk, he would have given the squirrel an ass whooping bad enough to put him in intensive care. It ate at him. He, a wolf, beaten up by a squirrel.

The bartender, a grizzly bear, noticed what was going on. "Hey, take it outside if you two are gonna duke it out, got it?"

"Sounds good to me," said the lion, grabbing Troy by the wrist. The wolf cried in pain, unable to stop the lion from forcibly dragging him out of the bar. Outside, the lion tossed Troy up against his beat up truck.

"You better get me my money, Troy," said the lion.

"Fuck you,, man," said the wolf, still in pain from having his wrist grabbed. "I don't got it."

Incensed, the lion grabbed Troy again, only this time it was by the throat. Troy tried to fight back, but the lion was stronger than him. The lion growled as he slammed the wolf head first into the door of the beat up truck. Troy landed muzzle first into the pavement. He hollered in pain as his head ached from the assault. The lion picked him up, slamming his back into the truck. He got close enough to Troy that the wolf could smell the foul stench of cigar smoke on his breath.

"You better get my money or I'm going to put you right back in the hospital, got it?"

"I got it," said Troy. He watched as the lion went back into the bar. No longer welcome back inside, the wolf climbed in his truck and drove off, telling himself that if he didn't have a broken wrist, he could have taken that lion. The anger ate at him more and more, he was ready to snap. He was in debt, unemployed, and was in danger of being evicted from his apartment, and he knew just who to blame for everything.

"I'm gonna kill you, Karen," he said. "You and that fucking squirrel of yours. I just have to find you."