"Why did you go back into the Otterton flower shop after we left out?" Judy asked as she kept her violet eyes on the road.

"I left something."

"Uh-huh," she said, not really believing him but choosing not to press the issue.

"I hate flowers," Nick said as he stared out of the passenger's side window of the cruiser that they shared.

"Why," Judy asked genuinely confused.

"Meh, childhood stuff, ancient history."

"I love history, its one my favorite subjects and you know it Nick, now tell me."

Nick sighed, "My dad, he, a, he died when I was little."

"I'm sorry Nick,"

"It's ok Carrots, I was young when it happened. I barely remembered him back then and I don't remember him now. But my mother said that he had loved flowers, it was actually how they'd met. Anyway, Ma would take me to visit him every on year their anniversary. She would buy the most expensive bouquet of flowers that she could afford from the Flora and Fauna flower shop and then we'd get on the bus to Willgrave Cemetery."

"Willgrave?!" Judy said, her ears twitching in shock, "isn't that a Potter's Field?"

"They do use a good portion of a it to bury the unknown and unwanted but they also sale inexpensive plots to creatures who cant afford better or wouldn't be given better. But hey, what would you expect for a fox." Judy gave him a sympathetic look and Nick shook his head. "Please don't do that Judy,"

"What?"

"Look at me like that, I know that you don't mean anything by it but it, it reminds me of..." he sighed, not usually lost for words, "I don't need anyone's pity. Not yours, not anyone's."

"You don't have my pity Nicholas, but I'm not going to smile while you tell me about how your family was mistreated just because you're foxes."

"Well if that bothers you, then you're really in for a dousey. When I was about twelve years old, the pigs that own the flower shop now, brought it from the beaver family that used to own it. The Woodermeirs had always been nice to us , even gave me odd jobs in the summer sometimes but the Muddles, all they saw when they looked at us were shifty thieves." Nick closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, "My mother had never stole a thing in herself. Worked herself to the bone, worked herself to death, just for me. Anyway, they refused to sell her any flowers. She begged them, pleaded with them, showed them her money and even counted it out for them but they didn't care. To them, we were just foxes and all foxes were the same. I'll never forget the way that he laughed right in her face and said that her money was probably fake or stolen. Then he told us to get out before he called the cops and told them that we were stealing. Of course my mother, who worried more about her twelve year old fox son who she knew would have been seen as a trouble maker, grabbed my hand and ushered us out quickly.

"When we got to the bus stop, she smiled at me and said something about it being such good fortune that we had the extra money now and that after we visited my father, we'd go to get some ice cream with it. I was nearly a teenager, I didn't want any ice cream, I wanted to stick it to the Muddles for hurting her. But I smiled and told her that I couldn't wait. Then, then, she started to cry. Not out loud and if I hadn't been paying attention, I wouldn't have noticed the tears, but they just kept coming. I think she thought that she'd let my dad down by not bringing him any flowers for his grave and it was tearing her up inside. I told her that I had left something and that I had to go get. Before she could say anything, I ran off and found my best friend Finn and together, we ran our first hustle. He threw a couple of rocks through the front window and when Mr. Muddle ran outside to see what happened, I went in through the back door and stole the most expensive bouquet I could find. I got back to my mom, just before the bus came and when she saw the flowers, her face just lit up like the sun was inside of her. She asked how I got them. I lied of course and said that I went back to the flower shop and explained to what we wanted the flowers for and he had a change of heart. She was so happy but I caught an attack of conscience a few days later and told her what I had done. She was soooo livid, but she gave me $30.00 that she really didn't have to give, and told me to go right down to Mr. Muddle's shop and pay for I had stolen."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Did you go back and pay for the flower you stole?"

Nick laughed uproariously and slapped his knee. "No, I didn't give that pig the money. Finny and me took it and brought our very first Jumbo Pop. They were only $10.00 back then so it was easy and hence the Pawsicle was born."

"Where's your mom now? You never talk about her."

"She's dead. Died when I was seventeen. A heat stroke took her. I called emergency services but they refused to send an ambulance for her. They thought that we were just trying to run some kind of scam to get medical supplies. I ran all the way from Fox Hollows were she had been working to the hospital but they didn't want to treat her, once again, they thought that we were faking. They didn't believe me until I passed out too. It had been over 100 degrees outside that day. They ended up treating us then and I came out ok but my mother didn't make it. Buried her in Willgrave too, next to dad. I couldn't afford much but I promised that I wasn't going to beg for anything and that my parents would have their flowers. I stole a crate of seeds and planted a bunch of them on parents' graves. Now every Spring, they rest beneath a bed of wild flowers and no one can take that away from her. No one and I've never gotten anyone flowers ever again. No one was ever worth it," Nick said softly, as he rested his chin on the back of his paw.

"Nick, I'm so..."

"Here we are, Cotton Tail," he interrupted, " and looks like ole Finny is down to his last customers. Let's go pay him a visit."