Sleeping in?

Didn't know her.

Persi was a good boy, always, but he was an early riser. He knew better than to wake Mutter, and so as it was lately, Fable, but that didn't mean he was inconspicuous. Sure, he normally stayed in the den, but sometimes if he stared hard enough they would rouse as if by magic. Sometimes he was just plain too loud, bumbling about like a great big fool though he was far from a large whelp; just clumsy.

Today was neither.

Today, on this still-dim, dreary morning, with the sun only just starting to peek up above the horizon, Persimmon had an accident. It was not the first, but it was the first here. The first in poor Miss Fable's den. It'd always been mildly embarrassing, of course, but safely tucked inside his own den with his own littermates and his own Mutter, even his Mutter, there was a certain level of... well, lack of fucks to give. A bit of nest was spoiled, it was taken away.
But Fable wasn't family, though she was kinder than anyone he had ever met -- besides, perhaps, Apricot. His Uncle was the funnest, happiest person he knew! They went on adventures and laughed and played, wrestled and romped, and Persi begged him for stories of the Dusk Kingdom.
But not even Apricot was here.

It was the sensation of being wet that made the pale boy stir, and for one groggy moment, he was blissfully unaware. Then that moment ended... He realized he must've missed going to the bathroom before bed. Heat flooded his face.
He was getting too old for this.
He pulled himself to his paws carefully, ears splayed, and started pawing at the damp moss. Perhaps if he was quick enough, he could clean it up and dispose of the moss in a hole somewhere before she woke, clean himself up. It was raining outside, he could hear the patter against the earth; that would help wash the stains from his pale haunches.
Tears sprang unbidden to his teal-and-amber gaze.