By Eilene Lyon
I never expected a problem, really. We have wildlife all around our home: deer browsing the shrubs, robins stripping berries from the juniper, chipmunks burying seeds in the flower pots, raccoons in the rafters, mice roaming the dark interior of our walls.
Frankly, the dogs never did much to stem the tide, and Kyra, the Sentry, has been gone for months now. Sterling, having inherited the mantel of guard dog, duly alerts us if a bear comes around, but any lesser being is beneath his dignity to utter even a minor “Woof.”
So why the fox has taken such a mercenary attitude towards our beleaguered pup is a mystery. This vixen is not jumping over any lazy brown dog here. Oh, no. Lazy – mostly. Brown – not a tinge.
Yet for some reason, a few weeks ago, we found fox scat on the old dog bed we keep in front of the garage for Sterling to lounge on after his daily walk. How rude! Sterling took it in stride, as he is wont to do.
“Humph” I said, tossing the offending turds into the woods.
Despite Sterling’s laissez faire stance, Foxy decided to up the ante. Before you could say, “Piss up a rope, ya auld scalawag,” that little canine curmudgeon decided to start taking a dump in Sterling’s water bowl! (I am not making this up. See for yourself.)
And it began happening regularly, forcing us to take preventive measures. Why should Sterling have to endure such an insult? Or maybe I’m reading Foxy’s intention all wrong. What do you think?
Feature image: Gray fox in our back yard.