What the Fox Said

A short story originally written on April 9, 2012.
            
It was another unseasonably warm day and I was on the side of the road, finishing notes from a phone call I had just finished. It was a country road somewhere off the beaten path a bit. Though I had my flashers on, there wasn't any traffic to speak of. Ready to start up the car and head to my next appointment, I noticed a dog sauntering across the road from the left. I watched for a bit before realizing this was a fox and not a dog.

No question he was in charge and knew what he was doing. When he was done crossing, instead of heading into the thick brush he paused on the shoulder a bit in front of me. He seemed to be in thought then turned to look at me. He tilted his head just a bit and in no time I realized we were looking into each other’s eyes. What a cool moment. I thought to grab my camera and take a photo, but I decided the moment was more valuable than the image. He had these purposed eyes, almost a blue gray wrapped inside spikes of fur, colored in red and brown and gray.

Then he looked about, as if checking to make sure the way was clear for something. Instinctively, I felt myself looking about as well. This was a silly act because no one was about; just the fox and I. Slowly he began to walk towards my car, moving towards the driver’s side. I watched as he came to my door. I nearly jumped out of my seat when he knocked on my car door.

This can't be real. I shook my head, looked around, then looked him in the eyes and he knocked again. So I lowered my window a bit and looked at him cautiously. He said, "Hi! Are you okay?" Now I know this isn't real. I must have dozed off and this is a dream. I looked around again, with greater intensity this time. It’s just he and I. Again he says, "Are you okay?"

I lower my window, all the way down and reply, "Sure, I'm fine.” Then, “You can talk?"

"All animals can talk. Right now, apparently you can understand me. Anyway, I was concerned. We don't see folks hang around here and your eyes looked like something was wrong." He was now sitting, with his left paw up on my door near my window. This was surreal.

He adds, "Wanna talk?" "Umm … sure." I add.

"Come out where I can really see you. Don't worry I won't bite." He adds sarcastically. "Really, I won't bite. We'll just talk. You look like you can use it and I haven't had a good chat in a while. In fact, even longer since I spoke with a human." He moves out of the way. My mind is racing as I try to make sense of this moment.  Cautiously get out of the car. He walks over towards a fallen tree and lies in the grass, crossing his front paws. I slowly head over and sit on the large log. He repeats, “I won’t bite.”

His face is genuine and I seem to understand his expression. He's licking his paws and looking up to me at the same time. None of this makes any sense to me. Eventually we both start talking at the same time. Questions abound from both sides. We both laugh. I was struck with how he covered his eyes with his left paw as I put my right hand to my forehead trying to rub reality into the moment. This isn’t real, but here I am. Here we are.

I stop questioning this and start with a brilliant, but appropriate comment … “Hello.” I get a hello back. There were a few moments of silence. Maybe it was a few minutes. He’s far more relaxed than I am. He returns to his original question, “Are you okay?”

Okay then, it seems we’re going to have a conversation. “Why do you keep asking me that?” He quickly adds, “It’s in your eyes.” I like to believe that I hide my emotions well. Obviously I don’t! Hell, if a fox can see it so can everyone else.

“Actually, I’m not okay. I’m dealing with a whole lot of stress right now. A job that I thought was going to be good enough is proving to be less so. I’m facing possible bankruptcy and the financial ruin associated with that.” I must have rambled on for several minutes, or maybe vented may be the better phrase. He was so patient, listening to every word I said. Eventually, I stopped, looked straight at him and asked, “I’m sorry, my name is Dragan, what’s yours.”

I could see a wry smile slowly emerge. He offers, “My name is Frederick, Fred to my friends. You are obviously my friend, so you can call me Fred.”

He goes back to licking his left paw, which is crossed over his right paw. Several minutes pass before he gets back to our conversation and adding, “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Seriously, unless you’re about to be eaten, it’s all good.” I quickly say, “WHAT?”

“Our issues out here are you eat or you get eaten. You’re talking about so much other stuff. I don’t really understand it. But if you have food to eat things are okay. If you’re about to be eaten, then you need to be faster. This job stuff I don’t understand. I’m sure it’s important to you. In my world it all boils down to finding food or being food.”

More silence. Our perspectives are different that’s for sure. Then it seems our issues aren’t that different. It’s all about survival. I then ask, “What was it in my eyes that got your attention?” He offers a very sly smile and says, “You had the same look in your eyes of the chicken I met earlier. You look like you were about to be eaten, like your life was coming to an end.”

I flinch back! “No one’s going to eat me!”

“Maybe not, but your eyes showed that same fear, or maybe that same intense level of worry.”

He continues, “Look, I have no idea what bothers your kind. My issues are pretty simple. Avoid cars and bigger cars, and don’t get eaten. There isn’t much around here to eat me, but I know what that look is and you had it.”

More silence. I think I understand that. Sure it is the simplest view of it all. Eat or be eaten. I add, “No one’s going to eat me, but I understand. Our stresses may be different from yours, yet we share stresses. Right?” Fred says, “It seems so. It does appear that if being food isn’t your problem, then why the look in your eyes?”

We chat for a while longer, the fox and I. He shares how he lost his mate to a car last winter and how he felt lost without her. He struggled with her loss, how senseless it was. I talked about my divorce and career issues. It came back to the same simple rule that he lived by … “You’re either food or not food.”

Fred stood up and did a wonderful feline stretch. He walked towards me to say something, but all I heard was a growl. For a brief moment I had this dire feeling I just became food. I could tell from his eyes that he sensed things had changed as well. He stepped forward, placed his right paw on my left thigh, looked me in the eye and then gave me a massive lick on my cheek. We couldn’t understand each other any longer, but we were still friends. I reached behind his left ear and gave him an appreciated scratch.

He looked into my eyes, being closer to me than before, gave me a smile and then disappeared into the brush. I sat on the log a bit longer. This wasn’t a dream or maybe it was. Either way, I’m not going to be food today so things are going to be okay. Fred and I will be okay.