Foxes in London

A few months ago, I was walking home from the pub with John and saw what looked like a dog trotting between parked cars - except furrier, with a long bushy tail and pointy ears. It was a fox. And it was acting cool as f**k. As we got closer, it glanced nonchalantly at us and was like, "Oh hai", before disappearing into someone's front yard.

I squinted. "Is that ...? Was that ...? I mean, just all casual?" I said to John. "Yup," he replied."They're getting bolder by the day."

People would be surprised to know that there are plenty of urban foxes in London. When we lived in Maida Vale, there was a huge, private communal garden that stretched nearly the length of the street which our flat backed onto. Foxes would have speed dating sessions in this garden, then decide to get down and dirty in the wee hours of the morning. I know, right? Like, GET A ROOM. You know, instead of outside my window. I'd be woken in the middle of the night with a sound similar to a high-pitched woman's screaming, before realizing that it was a pair of foxes acting out the lyrics to a Rihanna song.

Anyway, I woke up this morning and headed for the bathroom. I left the window open overnight because it's been so hot in London lately. First, I noticed the turf had been overturned. My first thought was that someone had decided to some late night yard work in our garden. Highly unlikely, but I wouldn't rule out that 0.5% chance of possibility.

Bewildered, I brushed my teeth and looked again. This time, there was a fox standing boldly and staring defiantly at me.

"You little ..." I started, just as my Dad used to say when we were little after unwittingly stepping on a rogue Lego piece in the middle of the night.

But oh no. In an act that I can only describe as "challenging", this fox decided to curl up next to the hole it dug up, as if to say, "What. WHAT?"

Look at those eyes. Just look at them.

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