As bold as brass

Well, our house could never be described as dull.

Last night was (more) proof of this. We had been out at the opening of the R.H.A. and then onto the Office/Doheny and Nesbits and finally the United Arts Club. We eventually came home and were met by a VERY strong smell of wet dog at the studio and kitchen door. Now, we don’t have a dog; we have quite enough on our plates with Squeak, Missey and their various tom cat boyfriends (three at the last count!). I had encountered this smell before about 15 years ago, but hoped I was mistaken in what I remembered of it. We looked around and eventually found the source, a fox. Yes, a fox. In the utility room. Curled up. On top of a box.

I’ve seen him before, with a few others, in the garden and he’s in a fairly sorry state. He didn’t stir when we went into him and even though we left the back door jammed open, he was still there this morning, now curled up in Squeak’s basket. This could have been a disastrous move on his part, as Squeak does not believe in the Barney/sharing is caring notion.

I phoned the DSPCA and left my details on their answering machine; but, just as I put the phone down I spotted the fox running along the back wall! And quite perky too! Now I am quickly trying to do the laundry, and getting tonight’s dinner out of the freezer before either a hyena takes up residence or a herd of wildebeest begin to graze in the back garden.