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"Happy Birthday to you," we all sang along, "Happy Birthday to you...Happy Birthday, dear Zachary...Happy Birthday to you!" My adopted father and mentor blew out the flames of the wax candle. My Doberman tail wagged fiercely. We all cheered, clapping and congratulating the graying black cat as he positively beamed down at the large cake. His wheelchair rocked excitedly as I started cutting a small slice for him, then for everyone else sat within the Mess Hall. Most of Second Chances had to be there, congratulating him or already passing plates around. The townsfolk had really come together for their retired mayor's birthday celebration. Everyone chipped in for the feast, bringing either presents or dishes one would regularly bring for the communal Thanksgiving dinner. We even butchered a dying cow from the town's flock of farm animals to cook up an unhealthy batch of hamburgers. Boy, were they fantastic! The cooks grounded the beef with chopped onions, plus some wild mushrooms from the greenhouses. It certainly made Zachary light up with nostalgia after taking a few eager bites. We certainly enjoyed the treat, and so did the younger cubs who'd never been inside a fast-food restaurant or celebrated the Fourth of July. So much changed in the three decades since the Collapse-the end of civilization as we knew it. The changing climate had calmed down. Factions rose and fell, including the dreaded enclaved cities, yet we endured. We survived. We thrived in our peaceful corner of the continent, our population growing with time. In time, we built multi-storied log buildings. They were nowhere near as tall as skyscrapers or the small mountain overlooking our patch of paradise, but close. The community that took me in had become less isolated over the years too, more connected with active towns and settlements that traded resources. One day, I imagined civilization industrializing again. Would we learn from our mistakes, however? Time would tell. Mr. Zachary Sauveterre slowly retired from his role as de facto mayor of Second Chances, slipping instead into an advisory role for the new mayor, Ambrose, and the town council. Arthritis hadn't been kind to the older feline, to the point he'd spent most of his sixties walking with a cane and eventually settling into a wheelchair. On top of finding any different ways to give back to the survivalist community he'd founded all those years ago, he still smiled, still made awful jokes, and actively played the role of grandpa and godfather. He adored playing those roles, especially to his grandcubs and the next generation. His sons and I never stopped loving each other. Boyfriends and long-term partners came and went, yet they never held a candle for our strange four-way bond. My vulpine husband Jeremy managed to understand over the years, even participating in some incestuous fun with my adoptive brothers on occasion. His tolerance, laidback attitude, and kind empathy were a few of many reasons I fell in love with him. Later that night, as the festivities died down and we finished cleaning up, my red fox pecked my lips. "I'm going to bed early for morning patrol," he whispered, smiling softly as he held me. "You have fun with your brothers. And tell me all about it." My tail wiggled at the thought. "Yes sir," I chuckled, jokingly referring to him technically being a rank higher. "Love you, hun." "Love you too, Donnie," he replied, then left for our cabin. He winked at the triplets as Ambrose, Blaine, and Cliff bid goodnight to their loving partners. Plus, our friends, neighbors, honorary nieces and nephews. By the time that things were relatively clean inside the Mess Hall, the triplets and I guided our wheelchair bound father out the longhouse. It was approaching sunset. The blue and orange sky shone gorgeously while a soft, warm wind told us that summer was fast approaching. "Eddie's new apprentice mentioned hearing some cool stuff on the radio," Cliff mentioned to Dad. "Cargo ships from Iceland, Ireland; they're making regular stops to that town from Newfoundland. They tell her that it's becoming monthly and they're all looking for trade. I think she said something about Cuba also talking to South Africa." "World trade's happening again?" Dad chuckled delightedly. "That...That's amazing!" "Are ya sure it's Cuba and not Colorado that's been talking to South Africa?" Blaine pondered. "I'm gonna have to talk to Eddie to make sure-" "Anyway," Cliff interrupted, "think about it: one point or another, they'll start floating up the St. Lawrence, then to the Great Lakes. And what is the large body of water we're closest to?" "The Great Lakes?" Blaine asked and shared the same smug grin with Cliff. "Exactly," he said. "Imagine one day trading with Europeans." "Think we'll live long enough to see that?" I asked aloud. "Maybe I'll get to travel all the way to Iceland when I'm an old man..." "We're already old men, Donnie," Cliff quipped. "Agreed," Ambrose jested. "Old men?" I gawked. "We're not even fifty just yet, you guys." "Dad's ancient though," Cliff joked, earning him a scoff. "Heard that, you brats!" Zachary huffed, laughing. "I'm not senile just yet." Navigating through Second Chances sometimes felt like being feral rats inside a maze. At least, in the center of town, where buildings were constructed more closely together and interconnected more, like Main Street of what used to be known as the American Dream. A population surge and the need to rebuild old houses led to new construction, however. Aside from the expanded Mess Hall, Zachary's cabin home happened to be one of the very few original buildings that remained three decades later. Its rustic exterior and weathered yet structurally sound front porch welcomed all inside, whether you took the front steps or the angled ramp that Blaine and his twins had constructed for their dad. The floorboards creaked as I held the door open for them and followed my adopted family through the foyer, the kitchen, and straight to what used to be the guest bedroom. Everyone stood incredibly erect. All four black-furred beauties purred beside the bed, their clothes beginning to come off. Nobody said a word and yet we all thought the exact same thing, desiring the exact same thing together. Ambrose and Blaine were already helping their dad get undressed as Cliff planted a kiss on the older feline's lips. Their whiskers twitched in familial excitement. I closed the door behind me as I stepped forward and leaned over to kiss the mature black cat as well. His aged lips and expert tongue still made me feel like it was only yesterday when I first made out with Zachary, on my first night in my permanent home. How time flies quickly, I thought to myself. Then, I parted lips with Zachary and nuzzled against his graying chin. "I love you. Love you all so much..." Zachary kissed between my ears. "I love you too, Donovan. And my boys...I love y'all so goddamn much. You're the best present any daddy could ever hope for..." He tiredly chuckled after clearing his throat. "Would you mind setting me up so I can get a view?" "Of course, Dad," Ambrose answered. "On it, Daddy," Blaine agreed. Everyone still exchanged deep and passionate kisses before we eventually helped the elder cat onto a comfortable position atop the bed. He only wore some boxers and ported an erection that throbbed beneath the tempting fabric. The old feline actually stared as me and his handsome, middle-aged sons stripped each other down. He purred like a reliable engine, watching us grind naked together. We tweaked nipples, caressed our puckish yet fit stomachs, groped our tails and made out with full abandon. Eventually, we joined our father on the bed, and gave him his presents.