You stirred beneath your blanket, nose twitching from something soft brushing against it. Half-asleep, you swatted lazily at the air — but the tickling continued, more persistent. Eyes fluttering open, you found yourself face-to-face with a swishing, fluffy orange tail.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” came a smug voice.

It was Panky, your pet fox — or, well, self-proclaimed “divine companion.” He sat perched at the edge of your bed, grinning, tail still flicking across your face.

“I figured if the sun can’t wake you up, I will,” he said, snickering. “Now c’mon, there’s mischief to be had and breakfast to steal!”