When I first saw it, I thought it was a cat. Ginger, fluffy. It sneaked past the green outside our house on my way back from a walk with Tosia.
There’s plenty of free-running cats in the neighbourhood, I’ve paid it no notice.
I knew it was about an hour or so before sunset, because I leave my dog walks late. I leave any sort of movement that isn’t a spontaneous kitchen dance party late, or decide to ignore it all together. Can’t ignore Tosia, but I do prefer when the streets are quieter as I take her out.
I saw it again a week or so earlier. I think it’s there’s a fox outside, I tell James as I release the dog from her harness.
Then I’m in Hay, and during late nights of no sleep I scroll through all of my brain-rot apps. Instagram, Twitter (ick), Facebook. Early on in our residency we had a person from TikTok come to talk to us about #booktok and, after the initial plans of attacking the app with my publishing story, I eventually realise I begin to steer away from it completely.
On Facebook one of my neighbours posts a photo of the fox. I think it’s a girl she writes I love her. The picture doesn’t even look real. Our crescent is moody, dark, coated in a haze of rain. The foxes nose is black. She licks her face, her tongue baby pink, and looks strait into the phone’s camera. There is a cracked egg under her paws.
It makes me miss home in a way that I can’t quite grasp.
Few days later, on our way back, driving up our street in the car full of Jade’s and my bags we spot her through the window. Oh my god, I say (or similar). She’s completely calm, says Brian (or similar). She’s so cute, says Jade (or similar). I take my first photo of her.
The next day, about an hour before sunset, Tosia stops and stares at the fox. The fox stares back at her. There are no signs of the usual upcoming chase, just two animals and their quiet looking. I don’t dare to say recognition but the way every thing seems to stop suggests this.
I decide to go out and meet her. There’s a raw egg in my blazer’s pocket, white like snow. Apparently white chickens lay white eggs, which I find after some time of thinking they’re bleached.
Across the green, the fox spots me, now dogless. She considers me, and I take the egg out of my pocket and place it in the middle of my palm, extend my arm in the offering. I come in peace, I think, white egg like a flag. I gently lower it onto the grass and step away.
The Fox comes. My lower abdomen fills with warmth and my eyes with salt water. I can see her up close now, the whiskers and the nose trying to suss me out. She grabs the egg, her teeth are slim and sharp, I’m sure she will crack it but she doesn’t. She looks behind at me as she runs to another neighbour’s garden, towards her home.
The day after I bring out another egg and my daughter. My daughter despises being outside and hates bugs of all sorts, so to have her out in fresh air feels massive. I tell her to lower the egg and wait. The Fox runs straight up to us and grabs the egg. My daughter’s face beams, and melts, and I hope she won’t ever forget it.
The day after I bring out another egg, James, our daughter and son. The Fox comes quickly. I hope they will never forget it.
I talk to my mum about the Fox. She suggests the Fox might be a mum, coming out once a day to find some food for herself and her little ones. The Fox seems so young herself. The crows pick on her tail, the neighbour says to me, wind her up. I google fox cubs, a mistake.
The day after, it’s just me and my daughter again. I pick the last egg from the box and place it in my pocket. As we wait for the Fox, a man comes by with his pug. I am against it he says. The fox should live in the wild. I look at the Fox, try to convey to her that I’m on her side. I try to say something, but the man keeps spewing. If it ever comes n e a r me, he says, I will kill it!
My daughter smiles at the fox. I message the other neighbour about the threat. Son of a bitch, she replies. I know, I say. We’re all in this together like, I say. When I get home I’m so angry my ears are ringing.
The day after I buy more eggs and go out to meet her.