THE FOX WHO LOVED A CORGI.

(I am out of breath from running, oi.)

As many of you know, there is a fox who loves me, but here is yet another fox who had a week-long affair with a Welsh corgi. He can be seen, above, starting up with some Canadian geese. (What will be next, a Tasmanian Devil?) I say “affair” but I did not witness—and refuse to speculate on—any sultry activities. Imagine what you will, but I, myself, will not “go there.” I will say this: they palled around spectacularly, out there, in a semi-wooded region, closely, at dusk. The corgi had run away from her owner, not far mind you, but far enough.

I have theorized—and continue to believe—that the corgi had espied the fox from a distance (and vice-versa) possibly over several “tethered” walks and thought to herself, “Is that not a dog? Off the leash—permanently? He is scrawny but has cute fangs.” The well-groomed corgi came from a reputable home and here was the wild brute tempting her: a classic good girl / bad boy scenario. O, they bounded about, they paused thoughtfully in the greensward, they curled up in the shrubberies. They supped on prey (not kibbles ‘n’ rarebits) and they slurped from streams. I witnessed these moments as I jogged about and as I idled thoughtfully in the greensward, but I did not curl up in the shrubberies!

I have since spoken to the corgi’s owner, a small elderly woman who covered her mouth with one hand and giggled when I described ‘The Week of the Red Fox and the Welsh Corgi.’ She related a moment when she had to unhook the corgi’s leash, which had gotten snagged in a hedgerow, and, of a sudden, her beloved pet (planning this all along?) sprang forth and rabbited-off into the “wilds.” A fantastic week ensued in which the owner searched for the dog physically and virtually, the latter by posting to a listserv. During the day, the fox and corgi “laid low,” knowing that “the law” was out to find them. Which is probably why I encountered them at sunset, seeing as rescue efforts had been suspended for the day. As the woman detailed her “harrying” week, I looked down at the corgi, who nervously scanned the environs for her cross-species love. For those of you who know a Welsh corgi, you can easily envision a low dog, a somewhat jittery creature, a tan-and-white beast with a worried smile affixed to its panting muzzle. Eventually, a maintenance worker had tempted the corgi with some “kissy” noises and the repatriation process began, complete with a reward.

I believe this fox to be one of the kits who descended from the fox who loves me. If you watch the short video above, I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s the bloke at the end who came up to me while I sat—with permission, mind you—at the edge of the den. He is distinguished by his ragged tail, which does not have “the full brush.” I don’t see him very often but usually, when I do, he will sit not too far away from me and we will have the following conversation:

     Me: Oi, mate!
     Fox: […]
     Me: Oi!
     Fox: […]
     Me: Oi.
     Fox: […]

It’s a very nourishing exchange. In my heart of hearts, I doubt that the fox saw the corgi as “just another tawdry one-week stand” and vice-versa. I do believe they cared for one another. (What love!) And now, the “forces of propriety” have separated the two. You may be wondering if the corgi does long for the fox during the long days indoors and if the fox does pine for the corgi among the pine trees of its habitat? I think the answers are yes and yes. And while they could not have produced a “Red Forgi” or a “Welsh Corgox” they could have lived a furry, furry, amorous life of intrigue!



[At the request of the corgi’s owner, I am not publishing her name, the corgi’s name, or a photo of the dog.]

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