My dear, you're looking at an expert fisher fox [Wet season]

It started with going out of the room to allow the two some private time. The problem with being emotionally linked to your animal companion is that he constantly felt rather... giddy. Like wanting to skip about the room or spin in circles and chase his tail like a common dog in a lapse of insanity. The houlou had a great time having fun with his new playmate. Subsequently, he'd gained weight over the weeks and got rather moody. Never to the point of turning on his fox friend, but... both of them had mood swings that might make a two faced spirit smile. Giddy a few minutes then hide under the blanket and growl or mope a few later. Worried for his friend, the fox took him to the breeding center's vet on staff and mentioned all these strange happenings.
Fast forward a week of in and out visits; and Kristofor slated himself going insane or having stepped past rational thought processing. Standing on the other side of the glass as he watched his companion, far as he knew to be Male, nuzzling three multicolored lumps against his no longer engorged belly. As per protocol and to avoid what they called 'puppy milling', only one could be adopted per parent; and the other would be bottlefed and sent to the adoption agency at the houlou hall.
Fastforward again, as fox and hound watched the newborn stumble about on the floor of the apartment, seeking his first steps. Of opening his eyes for the first time and seeing 'mapa' and friend fox.
Now here he was for taking the pup out on a walk along the shoreline of the river. He needed exercise. (and the vet assured him this was a male puppy). Because Kristofor felt close to not believing.
1 wet season

The wintertime snowmelt hadn't come through yet, and the winds were light. The pup he decided to call Darwin, for his 'to other people' fantastical circumstantial birthing. Darwin the dog who defied nature's logic. He wanted to give the pup a bit of outdoor walking before attempting to teach him anything besides avoiding that cold and swift looking current of the river water. There had to be a spot somewhere down the line that he could divert and let the pup play and splash around in the water, right? Because repeatedly yanking him way from the water didn't feel right to him.
'Imagine what she'd think of me now, with a pup of 'my own'' the fox thinks to himself, pulling his paw out of the clam hole. Water squirts out of the hole as he removes his paw, essentially watering his shin. What a rude clam. It was a clam...right?
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Kristofor watched the clam squirt dribble down to nothing as the hole caved in around it. Guess thats how they remained hidden. He'd never seen a clam in his life. Suddenly curious, he crouches, and starts to dig away the damp sand. Its clinging to his fur, getting into the creases of his paw pads, and is going to be a terrible thing to get out. Finally, sticking his arm almost to the elbow in the hole, he found something hard. Pulling back out, and subsequently pulling Darwin closer, he found an oblong thing in his hand. It was ridged, silvery gray-white, and had two shells clamping shut as he held it between three fingers and thumb. So this is a clam. Darwin barged his way into the fox's crouch, curiou on what had been found. If there's one thing he found this pup to be, it was into everything he wanted to be part of.
5

Fast forward a few weeks from the clam encounter, and Kristofor had Darwin out on a rope lead again, this time taking great care to carry something in his arms but not in his paws. His paws were coated in strong smelling leaves that felt slick to the touch, swathed in white cloth around each padded finger, over the palms and around the thumb. Like wrapped boxing gloves of sort. He had to ask for some assistance tying up Darwin this morning and none of his companions were taught how to tie knots or have monkey fingers like that.
'Leave it, leave it, I'll get it.' The personal god of a landlord, she was a kind longeared humanoid who brought the leaves and the wraps. 'I'm surprised you tore up your paws just hauling a wheelbarrow out to the mines and back. AND BACK. Did you consider the after consequences?' It was like being scolded at home.
6

Excited by the prospect of a new friend, Darwin did his usual buldozing into a situation, he bounded over, and dumped the basket right over by pouncing most of his weight on the open basket flap. A yelp of surprise and both puppies found themselves nose to nose. Oh? Light brown nose nearly touching black. The black puppy blew her overly long facial fur out of her face, seeing brown and white and all waggy tail.
-yesterday-
Ten minutes literally crawled by. Each minute felt like a fox eternity (fast forward regular time by a lot in fox time). But he remained with his injured hands soaking in the liquid. Finally, the landlord stepped over and picked one of his soaking paws out of the bowl. Murky gray-green liquid dribbled slightly red when she inspected the damage a bit closer. She noticed his gritted maw, the hiss of pain, giving the back of the paw a gentle pat before resubmerging it into the water and checking the other one.
'I'm going to get some special wraps that should help speed up sealing these.' the kind (horrible) figure mentions, as she steps out of his apartment, leaving a miserable fox to his own torment.
8

The fox sighs, his gaze on the swifter portion of the deeper river water. Until a cold nose touches him. Huh..., he looks down to see his new addition blinking up at him with big brown eyes and a tilted head. She whines. Sad fox? Why sad? His own pointed ears droop sadly, raising his right arm just enough so she can sniff at the wrappings on his paws. Fox sad, fox hurt paws. Noplay. She sniffs the wrappings, sneezes strong enough to put her on her butt, and gets right back up. Burrowing her head against his forearm. Comfort. Help? Yes help. He leans a bit against the rubbing with a throaty purr/growl. Darwin doesn't get what's going on here.
-yesterday-
She explained each step while wrapping and doctoring his hands. The murky water finally having done its job, she set it aside and wrapped each digit in its own thick and slick leaf. The liquid that made it slick had antigerm properties, and would permeate the wound to keep it clean. The white cloth wrappings kept the leaves on his paws until a new layer of skin grew over and could keep the germs out naturally. When asked why, she asked him if he wanted to go to the vet to have his paws lopped off for infection. NO thanks.
10

What is stranger then a fox keeping a hound? A fox keeping three hounds AND a bird. Over the last few weeks, the fox managed his six creatures and himself at minimal amounts of handling. Mostly because when your paws are wrapped up, theres no grip on carrying something without using it with two paws. If they wanted patting, he'd do so. Holding a brush or anything slick required two paws and made it ridiculously difficult. To the point he couldn't brush himself. If he tried to hold his own brushes, with their slick polished handles, it would clatter to the floor and become a prime chewing target for the puppies.
Hence, why a week after turning away the raccoon, the landlord came back to check on his paws and found an overgrown puffball sulking on his long chair with a bird struggling itself across his long and tangled black fur, repeatedly getting stuck. She laughed. He laughed after a minute or two. The bird squaaabed.
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