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That night of the carjacking and Mickey's beating and shooting was the worst night of my life. Luckily though, there were several customers in the parking lot of the restaurant who had reported that Mickey and I had been carjacked that the police had an APB out on my vehicle. Mickey and I were fortunate that Jeanine had decided to have me drive around in circles and not take us out of the city into a field or the woods where she might have killed us and then buried our remains in a shallow grave or dumped us into some body of water.

After I gave my statement to the police, and after they had seen the video footage from the restaurant's outside camera, which thankfully the parking lot was well lit, that they released me from custody and allowed me to go to the hospital to visit Mickey. I ran into the hospital, asking the front desk what room my husband was in. They were incredibly kind and understanding, with one nurse saying she was just about to go check on Mickey, so she would take me to see him. I composed myself, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

Mickey was lying on a hospital bed, his nose all bandaged up from where Jeanine had struck him with the pistol. The doctors had already performed surgery to remove the bullet from his leg. Jeanine had shot him with a hollow point, but the round not only failed to expand, which would have caused a more devastating wound, but it had not hit any major artery or vein. Mickey was conscious, but they had him on morphine to kill the horrible pain he would have otherwise had to endure. I sat down on the chair next to his bed. He looked at me and held my paw.

"Hey, big bad wolf," he said, his speech slurred from the morphine.

"Hey, cute foxie boy," I said, tears welling up in my eyes again.

"Doctors say I'll be just fine," he said, closing his eyes and grumbling.

"Glad to hear that," I said, wiping the tears away. "You . . . you saved my life tonight, Mickey. You were so brave, tackling Jeanine even though she had a gun."

"You don't think I'd try to protect my husband?" asked Mickey, a slight grin showing on his face.

I squeezed his paw. "I always thought I was the protective one," I said. "After all, it's like you said, I'm the big bad wolf."

"I know you are," he said. "But when I saw Jeanine turn her back to us, I knew it was now or never. I jumped on her, wanting to bite her face off. I was still pissed that she smacked my nose with her gun. Next thing I remember is hearing a shot and feeling this awful pain in my leg. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up in the hospital."

"If I was thinking right," I said. "I should have pointed the gun at her and blown her brains out."

"No, no," he said. "Then they might look at you for manslaughter, even murder. You did the right thing, Johnny."

I leaned down, giving Mickey a kiss on the cheek. My face was still covered in tears, but they weren't tears of anguish anymore, they were tears of jow, knowing that my husband was going to be okay. Mickey said he wanted to sleep now, and I told him to go ahead. I staid the rest of the night with him, never leaving his side until he awoke the next morning.

Mickey spent a week in the hospital before he was released. I don't know who found out about me finally taking him home, but when we got to the floor where our apartment was at, everybody, every single tenant was in the hall, clapping and cheering us on. Mickey, who was still not able to walk right, leaned against me as I helped him into our apartment. Inside, I took him to our room and helped him into our bed. It had been so very lonely for me, sleeping each night by myself. It wasn't even the sex that I missed. Every night, Mickey always rested his head right up against my muzzle. I felt so in love, so comfortable with him nestled right against me. I sometimes woke up during the middle of the night, with the city lights piercing through the blinds of the windows, and stared lovingly at him. I first met him as just some guy that I hoped would suck my cock so I didn't have to paw off or go through the hassle of finding another girlfriend, but it turned into so much more than I could have ever hoped for. He turned out to be the guy that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. We were everything to each other.

Jeanine was eventually charged with attempted murder, unlawful confinement and abduction of two adults at gunpoint. I was revealed when the judge denied her bail at her arraignment, but I had not prepared for what was going to happen next. I don't know how it was I didn't notice it that day she showed up at our apartment, or when she had carjacked Mickey and I, though I was too busy worrying about being killed to pay attention, but I soon found out the reason why she wanted me back. She was pregnant. I was completely shocked by that revelation, and even more so when she said I was the father. While still in jail awaiting trial, the doctors performed a paternity test and compared it to the DNA I had provided. It was confirmed that I was indeed the father. I was a mess after hearing that, not knowing what Mickey would think about the fact that I fathered a child with the female who tried to kill him, but he assured me he would be fine. With Jeanine in jail, her trial still months away, I was awarded custody of the baby after it was born.

Surreal as it might have been, the happiest day of my life was when the officials from Child Protective Service came to deliver me my pup, a healthy, beautiful baby boy. Mickey and I both broke down crying when we took hold of him. Still in tears, I signed the necessary paperwork to officially take custody of him. The officials wished us the best of luck and then left, with Mickey and I the proud parents of my son.

"He's absolutely adorable," said Mickey, tickling the boy's ears. "What do you want to name him?"

I looked at my son, my precious baby boy, and thought long and hard about that question. I closed my eyes, picturing myself looking through a bunch of old family photos when I was younger, and then it came to me.

"Alex," I said to Mickey.

"Alex?" he said. "That's a nice name."

"He looks just like my Dad when he was a baby, " I said. "His name was Alex."

Mickey rested his head against me as I held the baby. "I think Alex is a wonderful name, Johnny."

I smiled, proud to have a son. "Alex Micheal Boskovic," I said.

"You, you, want his middle name to be my first name?" said Mickey. I could feel tears from his eyes against my fur.

"Of course I don," I said. "How could I not give him the name of the guy that I love so much?"

Neither one of us needed to say a word after that. We just sat their with little Alex held in my arms, overjoyed to have a son of our own.

As wonderful as being new parents was, Mickey and I still had to prepare ourselves for what would without a doubt be the most painful experience of our lives next to the day that Mickey was almost killed. Jeanine's trial would be coming up, and Mickey and I had to meet with the prosecuting attorney to discuss our testimony. Mickey was a paralegal, so at least he was familiar with the process of witnesses giving testifying in court. I was completely green about how someone was to get up in front of a courtroom and recount the worst day I'd ever been through. The prosecutor informed us that Jeanine's attorney was planning on presenting a case where she would claim that she was not guilty by reason of mental defect. I had no doubt that she was a bona fide nutcase, but the thought of a jury buying that load of bullshit made me sick. I told Mickey that I would be there for him during the trial. He promised me the exact same thing, and then, with the trial only a mere two days away, it happened.

Early one morning, a jail guard was making his morning rounds, inspecting the prisoners to make sure everything was okay. He walked passed Jeanine's cell where she had been placed by herself after getting into multiple altercations with other inmates, and quickly rushed into the cell. Sometime during the night, Jeanine had taken the sheets from her bed and hung herself. The jail physician was called in to resuscitate her, but it was too late. She had been dead for hours. When Mickey and I got the news, we were relieved beyond belief. I know it sounds horrible, and I know little Alex will never get to know his mother, but I was glad she was dead. This meant that we wouldn't have to go through the painful experience of a trial, wherein we would be grilled by her attorney, saying that we were somehow in the wrong. I wouldn't have to go through worrying about her getting out of prison, or worse, being acquitted. Most importantly, Jeanine would never, ever hurt anyone again.

Five years have passed since the day that Mickey was almost killed. After Jeanine had committed suicide, Mickey and I decided that it was best to relocate to some other city. There were just too many painful memories of what we'd gone through that we thought it best to get a fresh start someplace else. I told Mickey that I absolutely loved our week long vacation in Seattle. That was the city where I realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and so when I said "Seattle", he agreed whole-heatedly with me.

We both easily found jobs in Seattle, with Mickey able to transfer to a different branch of the law office where he had worked. Not only that, but he decided that he would go to night school to get his law degree. I was so proud of him the day he passed the bar exam and obtained his license to practice law. His law firm happily took him on as an associate, and he was promoted to partner not more than a year after becoming a certified attorney. With him making so much money, we agreed that I could quit working and be a full time stay at home Dad.

"You know," he said. "With me being the sole bread winner, that means you are now officially the bitch in our relationship.

I shoved him. "I am not," I said. "You know what really determines who the bitch is."

We both laughed at my statement.

We then bought a Craftsman's home in a quiet little neighborhood in the suburbs. I was so incredibly happy with the life I had now. One night, right after Mickey and I went to bed, we heard frantic knocking on our bedroom door. I got up and went to the door to open it. Two little figures ran inside and jumped into the bed.

"Daddy, Daddy," I heard two little voices say. "We're scared!"

I went back to the bed and laid down. Alex, our five year old, was cuddled up against Mickey along with three-year old, Frank. Mickey and I had adopted a new born baby male fox and were raising him as our own. I stroked the two boys heads, trying to comfort them.

"You guys afraid of the thunder outside?" I asked them.

They nodded their heads. Seattle weather was kind of strange. People always think that it just rains constantly, but it just drizzles more than anything. I found out we actually got less annual rainfall than most major US cities, and winters rarely got below forty degrees. Even with the frequent rainfall, we hardly ever got thunderstroms, which is what the boys were upset about.

"It's just thunder," said Mickey. "It can't hurt you."

"Daddy Mickey's right, guys," I assured them. "But how about you two sleep with us tonight, okay?"

Alex and Frank curled up against Mickey and I. We both talked to them soothingly, petting their heads and in no time they were fast asleep. I looked over at Mickey, smiling contentedly.

"Mickey?" I said.

"Yeah?" he said, yawning.

"I just want you to know, I couldn't be happier with my life."

He smiled, resting his head underneath my muzzle. "I couldn't be happier with our two boys and my big bad wolf."

I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off into sleep next to my two wonderful sons and my cute foxie boy.