The first time I saw her it was just after midnight on a cold New Years Day.
I have seen her three times since that night and I must confess, since our last encounter I have taken to sitting beside the bus shelter hoping to catch another glimpse of her. And what a glimpse she shall be; with long slender legs, short brown hair and dazzling wide brown eyes; she is beauty personified and tonight, I am going to ask her to mate with me. It’s a bold move, I know. We’ve never spoken before, she may say no. She may already have found another to mate with.
Oh, and there she is; frozen on the other side of the street; her eyes sparkle in the dim street light as they turn towards me. Her long legs poised to run should I frighten her.
But I shall not.
I call to her and she cocks her head ever so slightly, watching me with curiosity. She glances towards the corner of the street then turns her gaze to me again. I take this subtle single to mean, ‘Hey there, Sailor, follow me.’ And I do.
I dash across the road and round the corner to find her waiting patiently for me, gazing at me inquisitively through the semi-darkness. She has split open a trash bag that some careless human left lying on the pavement. There is half an uneaten banana amongst the trash, which she kindly nudges in my direction. But I do not want the banana, and by the look on her face, neither does she. There is an elephant on this street tonight, and it goes by the name of Sex. We both know where this is headed.
I brush passed her and head towards the nearest house – there is a lovely, tidy garden here that I’m absolutely positive she will love.
I pause beside the gate and look back for my love. Another male has caught my ladies attention and she is staring at him intently. He calls to her and she tilts her head slightly in response to it, but does not move. I consider emitting a short bark or low growl to warn the other off, but there is no need. My beloved turns her back on the other male and trots, elegantly, towards me and, bowing her head, she passes under the iron wrought gate.
I glance over my shoulder; the other male is still there. Such a fool! I bark at him, making sure he hears the mocking tone in my voice and with a triumphant skip in my step; I too pass under the iron gate, eager to meet my beloved and, of course, keen to show her a bloody good time.
And if you’ve ever been lucky enough to hear foxes engaged in sex, you’ll know how this ends.
Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day!