The family is having breakfast this morning – Wife – Cornflakes, Me – All Bran, Boy – Coco Pops. (Wife has broken the unbreakable code and let the horrible chocolate things into the house. I’m not impressed Boy should have rubbish cereal like me! Hopfully after she’s read this in a couple of days time it won’t happen again! – I can but hope…)
In the garden we’ve a new guest for breakfast. It’s Foxy Loxy and he’s looking at the fish in our terracotta fishpot like they’re a couple of smoked kippers. We’ve not yet named them so they can’t die (Imagine getting to heaven without a name!). I open the back door I wave my hands about but Foxy Loxy has seen this before. He knows I’m scared shitless of touching him and catching Foxy Flu or whatever it is these beasts carry. Boy is behind me. “Get Broom” I command and a broom appears at my side, thus armed I chase Foxy Loxy to the bottom of the garden where he hightails it into the undergrowth. Flush the success of defending my territory I retire to the Kitchen to enlighten Boy about the correct way to scare of beasts. Then at the top of the garden steps who should appear again – Foxy Loxy – Staring right at me, daring me to chase him. The cocky sod. Testosterone rises and before the family can pin me down I’m out of the door, face contorted in rage, growling from the back of my throat waving my £1.99 Tesco broom – As they say in Starship Troopers – I’m in it for the species.
Foxy Loxy looks at me. Does a little shake of his head and trots calmly off down the garden, this nonchalance stops me in my tracks, I try to remember where I’ve seen that look before…..
Oh yes..I remember ….. Wife….
PS. Mate told me in the playground this morning of her friend who came home at the weekend to find a fox had got into his house and pooped on his bed!!! My advice for dealing with these foxy situations – BROOMS DON’T WORK! Purdey still make cracking good shotguns!
Purdey – Cleans up foxes better than brooms!