This week seems to be all about the foxes. They got in on the act when they sneaked into my guest spot with Michelle’s book blog ‘Curled up with a good book.’ You can read about it here:
Although Rosie turns up regularly, I haven’t seen Chico for a few days which is most unusual, but I’ll keep you informed. Meanwhile here’s a short story:
‘Wait! I’m coming. Stop banging before you wake the neighbours.’
The old lady hobbled towards the back door, her failing eyesight barely able to make out the bushy tail of the fox in her garden waiting for his dinner.
‘You’re eating me out of house and home,’ she scolded as the animal gently took the chicken from her outstretched hand. ‘My shopping order must raise a few eyebrows; they probably think I only eat the cheapest, raw chicken legs. That’s your last one for tonight, now go home. And tell Rosie not to scream when you get amorous. It’s nearly two o’clock and I need some sleep.’
Smiling, she watched as Chico finished eating his dinner, then leapt the fence and disappeared. Elsie wondered what it would be like to be his vixen, waiting for her mate to return. It had been ten years since she had lost her husband, Stan, and she missed the feel of his body keeping her warm.
The icy chill in the air reminded her it was still winter, not a good time to be standing in the garden in the early hours of the morning, wearing only a thin dressing gown. She remembered nothing more until she gradually became aware of noise, light and warmth.
‘It’s a wonder she survived; they said it was the coldest night of the year.’
‘Yes, it’s weird. She’s a bit dehydrated but amazingly no hypothermia. If the foxes hadn’t been making such a din and disturbed the neighbours, she could have been there all night.’
The nurses’ voices drifted around Elsie as she slowly regained consciousness.
‘How are you feeling, dear? You’re in hospital. Do you remember falling? You were saying something about a brush. Did you trip over a broom? Is Vicsen a relative? Shall we give them a call?’
Elsie smiled as her memory gradually returned. The strong wind had whipped off a dustbin lid, which in the quiet of the night had made her jump. Her foot had slipped on the damp grass, and she had tumbled to the frozen, unforgiving ground with her leg twisted unnaturally beneath her. Her frail calls for help were lost under the sounds of the gathering storm, and as she shivered uncontrollably, she wondered if she would soon be reunited with Stan.
She had blacked out, but it was the feeling of rough fur tickling her bare legs which brought Elsie back to consciousness. She remembered the long, warm tails wrapped around her, restoring warmth to her frozen limbs as shrill screams called for human help.
‘No. I haven’t any close relatives to call, but there are some friends waiting for me,’ Elsie told the nurse. ‘Just get me home as soon as possible. Oh, and remind me to order some extra chicken as a thank you gift.’
Elsie noticed the nurse’s raised eyebrows. No doubt she thought the old lady was going gaga, but her furry rescuers deserved the very best.
© Voinks September 2018
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