Last Sunday, before mass at half five...because we are such good catholic children, the parents went to the match in castlebar to sell easter lilies.
I stayed at home, working away...stitching and stuffing and being a home bird. On their arrival, they told me that a fox had seemingly just been killed between the Stewert's and the Carney's new house. But there was no time...
After a discussion insued, the boy was trying to remember if the fox had been there when he landed home early that morning...
I was whisked off to mass...which the boy managed to dodge somehow...
but i could not help think of the poor fox the whole way through...his poor little head
When we got home i instructed the dogs and cats not to follow me, as i briskly made my way for him. I was compelled to see him, to rescue him, to see if he was alive and just sleeping...or very old and dieing...
when i thought i had gone too far, my eyes strained, and there he was...
the poor old thing...i walked closer and more of him appeared, he was nestled into the bank as if he just curled up for a nap in the sun.
he was perfect, his velvet ears, bushy red tail tipped with frothy white, and gently closed eyes...his dainty little legs, and tender paws...
i wanted so to scoup him up in my arms and instill life back into his already rigid body...
but the energy of him had changed...he was no longer a living, breathing creature...and the energy of the place where he was wasnt the same either, it was dull, and still and quiet...as if the ground was mourning...
he happened to be nestled beneath what i have always called a 'singing tree'...im not sure what their really called...but it squeeked and groaned with the death...
i rested a dandalion on his neck, but wished i could somehow cover him over, to protect his broken body...
people who think that animals dont have spirits...well...i dont understand.
Reflecting on the loss of mister fox, i cant help but wonder if he is the same beautiful fox i met over christmas holidays.
sitting in the kitchen, just after lunch, dad sprang up from his chair and looking out the front window, whispered in a low gasp-is that Jackson?
Jackson is a golden retriever from down by the river and he often crosses our fields without us, or him passing any remarks.
but this was not Jackson, and daddy quickly retrieved his statement
its a fox- !
in broad daylight-mother was confused
he's coming up the side now
So i stood at the sliding door, and as i cast my eye looking for a pale orange, scrawny creature- to my surprise- i watched a large, healthy, RED canine leap up and perch daintily on the uneven wall boarding our land and the next.
And he looked back
and looked straight at me
it was magic
so as i walked away from the fox, passed, i felt a sorror and an unbalance. as of o was walking at a slant, or i was suffering from sleep deprivation
another tragedy
between the twin towers and the titanic.
