Don't throw away your old meal because it might be your last

The moon rose, daytime slowly turned into night. A blanket of mist caked the ground. Fog dimly formed, casting a vague and mysterious scene. Animals crept from their dark, burrowed homes. In the distance, the howl of the coyote echoed through out the woodland. The creatures of the night were coming alive.
“Just let me explain! Please!” The tiny mouse, formally known as Albert, huddled in the crevice of a tree. “I have family! If I don’t get back to them, They will all die! Please sir! I beg of you.” The coyote nudged Albert with his long, filthy claws.
“If I were to do that My friend, Well, that’s like winning the lottery, and then throwing the money on the streets! Your crazy to think I would do such a thing.” He paused a moment, for he heard the quiet rustling in the bushes beside him.
“Please! I’ll-“ The coyote cut him off.
“Hush up!” Moments passed, Then a raccoon, a little on the fatty side, cautiously walked out from behind the brush. He whispered angrily “This is your lucky night, you scrawny rat. Get away from me before I change my mind!” Albert ran as fast as he could, forgetting every thought he had about dinner for his family. The coyote tip-toed over to the raccoon, quietly creeping up behind it.
“Hah!” He exclaimed as he pounced on the raccoon. “Got you!” He bared his claws and showed his teeth, and watched the raccoon, who was obvious to quick for him, run off. “Hey! Get back here! My...my dinner...it’s running away from me.” He let out a sigh of great disappointment, knowing that it was his fault he had to watch his supper dash ahead of him. “Oh, how I wish Little Red Riding hood would walk by.”
The Coyote walked out into a vast opening. He felt that the ground had become very bumpy and hard. And he thought to himself Where on earth am I?
Out of no where a set of headlights appeared, in complete confusion the coyote stays very still. The driver doesn’t notice him, the fog being so thick, he drives over him only hearing a low THUMP. Thinking it was a rock he goes on not to be seen again. And there lay, upon the gravel, fresh road kill.